


Sleepwalker

by Brenna_Fae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Self Harm, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mental Anguish, Panic, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Reader-Insert, Serious Injuries, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering, infidely if you squint, m/f/m sorta kinda?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7842901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenna_Fae/pseuds/Brenna_Fae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam and Dean Winchester rescue you from your living nightmare you don't know if you're ready to trust that it is real. If it is, what comes next? How will you move on from this and will you be given the chance to do so.</p>
<p>(Rape/Non Con warning is for past implied and doesn't involve either of the boys)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wash the Sins Away

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super duper nervous about this. I know its a huge departure from my previous fics. I hope it goes well. I promise if you stick with me it will get better.  
> As always thank you for reading and your comments give me life as well as the motivation to keep writing. I'm also trying something new where I don't make each chapter a novel in itself. We will see how long that lasts...

The first time you ‘sleepwalked’ in front of the guys was when you were passed out in the backseat of their car. They had promised to sit you down after to explain what happened when you found yourself on the edge of the road covered in fresh scrapes and mud pinned beneath the two of them. Considering they were mostly still strangers to you it took some convincing to get you back into the car.

They had pulled into the nearest motel they could find. Dean stayed with you in the car, where you sat as far against the back seat opposite him as possible, eyeing him warily.

When Sam came back with the keys they gave you plenty of space to walk. The second you’re through the motel room door you bolt to the bathroom, locking it quickly behind you.

After taking some time to calm yourself you force yourself to look into the mirror. You try not to cringe at how sunken and dead your eyes are or the deep bruising you can see spreading from your face and down your neck, disappearing beneath your shirt. You force yourself not to touch any of the small cuts that mar your skin, each in various stages of healing. You knew it only got worse beneath the fabric of your borrowed clothes. Clothes that not that long ago had been on one of the demons that had enjoyed torturing you.

Suddenly you couldn’t strip fast enough, although you’re very careful to avoid catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. When you remove the offending garments from your skin you turn the water on as hot as it can go, and then stand shivering as you wait for it to heat up. You’d had enough cold water on your skin to last a lifetime.

Grabbing the little sample soap and shampoo from the sink and a washcloth from the basket of linens you step into the scalding spray, hoping to burn away the memories; physical and mental. You spend the next twenty minutes scrubbing every inch of skin that the demons had touched and tortured that you can reach; inside and out.

You ignore the drops of blood that hit the puddling water as you open some of the fresher cuts. At least they were small. Small cuts hurt enough to make it worthwhile but aren’t so much that there’s a chance you might escape by dying.

You have to be a little more gentle when washing your midsection to avoid pushing too much on what you’re sure is a broken rib or two. Nevermind the fact that you can barely use your left arm, having had that shoulder dislocated so often. There may be a fracture or two there as well but you can’t localize the pain in that area anymore.

The hot water starts to cool way too soon. You still feel the phantom touches on you but at least they feel dulled and distant. You can’t ignore the little bloody streaks that cover the first towel you use to dry yourself off. Throwing it away from you, you grab a second one and wrap yourself tightly before sitting down on the edge of the bathtub to contemplate your next step.

Part of you still isn’t sure that this isn’t one more torture that was set up by the demons that had grabbed you from your apartment a week ago. It seems like it had been much longer but Sam and Dean had assured you that it was only a week ago that you didn’t show up for your shift at the library. Of course you didn’t know if you believed them.

When they first busted through the doors of that factory and started stabbing the crap out of those assholes who were holding you, you had felt nothing but relief. But as they finished off the last of them you’d felt the tiny seed of doubt sprouting. They had done so much to hurt you, new creative things, that it wasn’t inconceivable that this was just another route.

You probably would have run the second they led you from the factory but you were so exhausted and weak that you knew you wouldn’t get very far. Instead, you’d crawled into the back seat of the old black car sitting in front of the building and passed out.

When you’d found yourself in the ditch being pinned, you were sure you’d been right. They’d promised that they hadn’t been trying to hurt you and when you were someplace safe they would tell you what had happened.

Now you were that some place safe and you didn’t know if you should unlock the door...

The soft knock on the door might as well have been a wrecking ball crashing through for the start it gave you.

“Hey, I’ve got some clothes for you to put on, if you want something different.” Dean, that was the name of the man that the soft, hesitant voice belonged to.

You eye the pile of clothes on the floor, a dress the female demon had been wearing and a suit jacket from one of the males. If you hadn’t been stripped down at the time of your supposed rescue you would have refused to let the fabric so much as touch you but the alternative of riding around naked with these strangers was less appealing.

But now you’ve got a better option waiting on the other side of the door. Most of your brain is screaming that it’s a trap but your entire body is begging for warmth and a soft bed, two things you’d seen none of since you were grabbed. Food should probably be on your mind but the idea of eating anything has your stomach rolling.

Cautiously you turn the lock, bracing yourself for the moment when the door would be flung open, but it never comes. When you open the door just a crack and use the reflection of the mirror to see around it the man with the short hair and startling green eyes is standing there with a pile of clothes folded up and resting across his outstretched arms. You reach around the door and snatch them quickly before shutting the door and turning the lock again.

Logically, you know that if these men were demons like the others then that little lock would do you no good, but it still brings you some small comfort. You dress quickly before glancing in the mirror. The grime and dried blood that had been caked on your skin and in your hair was gone but your hair was still a tangled mess and the difference in the appearance of your skin was minor with all the bruising. At least the cuts on your face had mostly been older so there hadn’t been much bleeding when you’d scrubbed there.

Turning to the door you pause as you hear raised voices.

“Sam, we talked about this.”

“Dean, she needs a hospital, hell she needs a lot more than just a medical doctor after everything she’s been through.”

“We can’t just dump her in a hospital. We don’t know if there are more revenge seeking demons out there. She hasn’t told us anything. What if there were more at the factory that are gonna show up expecting their little plaything to be there?”

“So what do you wanna do? It’s not just the bruises. You felt the way she moved, saw the way she favored her body. There are things broken in there. Nevermind the fact that she nearly killed herself and us when she tried to run.”

There’s a long pause and for a moment you wonder if the conversation is over.

“We can ask Cas.”

“Dean, I don’t know if this girl really needs to be dealing with any more of our crap right now. From what her aunt said she had no idea about any of this before she was grabbed.”

They’re so focused on their argument they don’t hear the soft click of the lock, or the turning of the handle. They both look rather startled when you speak from the open doorway, your voice hoarse from abuse.

“Who’s Cas?”

Dean starts towards you but stops as soon as he sees you stepping back into the bathroom. He puts his hands up in a non threatening manner before taking a big step backwards.

“Cas is a buddy of ours. He can take care of those injuries of yours.”

“Is he a doctor?” You can’t figure out why the taller of the two would think that you would be so upset by a doctor but it’s the only option you can think of.

“Sort of. Ya see he’s got these abilities…”

“Is he...is he a demon?” You hate how small your voice sounds but fear has a strangle hold on your throat right now.

“No!” The force of Sam’s voice has you cringing visibly. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean to…”

Sam runs his hand through his shaggy hair roughly in frustration.

“Hey Sam, you're supposed to be the calm comforting one remember?” Dean takes another step back from you gently waving his hands at you encouraging you to come further into the room. “He's not a demon, but what he is, is complicated. More complicated than any of us have the energy for tonight. But I _promise_ he can make you feel better.”

You _want_ to protest. You want to beg them to just leave you alone here. But as you take a tentative step from the doorway of the bathroom you feel your skin tug painfully, feel small trails of blood forming where the very baggy clothes hang away from your body. When the small twist of your body that's caused by stepping forward nearly causes you to pass out as lightning shoots from the tender area of your ribs and all your mind registers is fear because you see the two men in the room suddenly move forward, you know you don't have a choice.

“Okay.” You give a small nod, your eyes glued to the floor.

Looking up through your lashes you see Dean close his eyes and bow his head. Your confusion only mounts when he speaks.

“Hey Cas, I know you're probably busy but we could really-”

Dean's voice is cut off when you hear a gusting of wind and the flutter of what sounds like fabric before you’re startled by a deep gravelly voice directly behind you.

“What do you need Dean?”

Spinning around and backing away quickly you manage to stumble over your own feet and would have fallen had strong arms not gripped you from behind. Jerking away you turn just enough to see behind you to where Dean is standing. The concern clouding his eyes should be enough to melt some of your defenses but you knew how good the demons had been at pretending.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. He’s not gonna hurt you, none of us are.” Dean hesitates before glancing over at Sam and then back to you. “He is going to have to touch you.” When he sees you starting to pull further away he rushes on. “But it’s just one touch and just right here.”

He gestures at his forehead.

Turning your attention to the new arrival you take him in. He _looks_ human but so did the demons and obviously there’s _something_ different about him, what with his appearing out of nowhere and his apparent ability to fix you with a touch.

Your cursory appraisal finds nothing overtly threatening about him but it’s not til you reach his eyes that you feel the first very weak thread of hope. You couldn’t describe it if you tried. You feel like you _should_ be afraid with the way those blue eyes are piercing through you but you feel nothing but comfort.

That doesn’t stop you from having to steel yourself as he moves towards you to keep yourself from backing up. He halts with his hand raised toward you when you start to speak.

“Can you..Can you fix everything? Even..” you hesitate and can feel the tears filling your eyes and threatening to spill forward. “Even things you can’t see...on the inside?”

“Oh yeah, Cas can heal anything!” Dean’s voice rings out, the enthusiasm at what he’s saying clearly evident, like he’s excited to tell you good news. It would be endearing if his next words didn’t make it clear he had no idea what you were talking about. “He’s a master at broken bones. I don’t know how-”

“Dean.”

You can’t help but glance over at Sam when he speaks and see the knowing look in his eyes as he tries to get his brother to stop. It makes sense since he was the one that had covered you up after untying you. He’d tried really hard to make it look like he hadn’t noticed the high concentration of blood caking your inner thighs.

“What, Sammy? It’s true, how many times has Cas fixed us up. Much better than having to set a bone ourselves.” Dean’s ignorance of the situation was _almost_ preferable than Sam trying his best not to look at you.

“Dean, I believe she’s referring to the internal damage to her reproductive system, although she does have a fair amount of fractures and breaks as well.”

You feel your skin flush almost painfully as you do your best to avoid meeting Dean’s eyes as the words sink in. You try not to think about the words that the woman had spoken in your ear after they had decided that the repeated rapes had lost their entertainment value and they had moved on to worse means of torturing that particular area of your body.

_She’s never gonna be able to make babies now. Not that she’s gonna live that long anyway_.

It takes a minute for you to realize that people are speaking. You hear mumbled awkward apologies and shushing noises coming from the two men but your eyes are once again drawn into the eyes before you, serious and calm. Your voice is nothing more than a whisper when you speak again.

“Can you?”

The face is still stoic but you can sense the tiniest hint of a smile in those eyes, something you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been staring at them intently, your breath held as you wait for an answer.

“You’ll be able to bear children again should that be something you choose to do.”

The tears that have been threatening finally spill forward and your body is wracked with a sob of relief before you manage to lock it up. You’re frustrated at the show of weakness. The demons had enjoyed it the most when they made you cry. You scan the faces in the room looking for the telltale signs of delight but see none.

Turning back towards the man Dean had referred to as Cas you only have a second to register that his hand is moving in to touch your forehead, his eyes closed in concentration.

Your body sags against the bed in relief as you find yourself pain free for the first time in quite a while.

“You should sleep now.” You look up at the man who had taken your pain away, the many thanks you want to give him on the tip of your tongue. But his words register and you instead shake your head frantically before looking around the room from person to person.

“No. No I can’t, I don’t want to. I won’t-” The last thing your register is another warm touch on your forehead before everything goes black.


	2. Run Run Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up from your forced slumber has your flight instinct kicking in to overdrive. Can you escape? Should you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter. I promise this isn't going to be a habit, it was just the best stopping place. I've got much more written, it just needs to be refined and then a little alone time with my lovely Beta.

The first thing that hits you when you start to wake is the complete lack of pain. While you were held captive you were rarely allowed to sleep. The few times you had succumbed to involuntary unconsciousness you’d always known exactly where you were and what was happening when you woke because the pain would be the first thing in your mind, even before you opened your eyes. For a few blissful moments you know everything that happened was just a nightmare and you're waking up in your crappy apartment, ready to start another shift at the library.

The light is all wrong though. It should be coming in from the foot of your bed but as you start to crack your eyes open it’s streaming in from the side. With a sinking feeling in your gut you shoot upright as the events prior to your falling unconscious come screaming back. You half expect to feel tight restraints wrapped around your arms and neck pull taught but instead you just feel a warm scratchy blanket wrapped around your midsection.

You don’t know how but that man that had taken away your pain had also made you sleep. Chalk it up to one more thing you don’t really want to know about. Cautiously you take in your surroundings. You spot the taller of the two men that had brought you here sprawled on the bed...Sam, that was his name. Looking around you spot the other one, Dean, curled up on the small loveseat across from the beds. The third man, the one that’d appeared out of thin air and knocked you out, was nowhere to be seen.

Moving as quietly as you can you pull back the covers and inch towards the edge of the bed. You pause when you feel something pressing into the side of your leg. Reaching into the pocket of the baggy sweats you pull out a small cloth satchel. You don’t bother wasting time with it, tossing it down onto the bed before carefully standing. Tiptoeing toward the door you’re further confused by the trail of salt lining the floor just inside the door.

Opening the door as quietly as you can, you take one last look at the two men sleeping in the room. If they don’t come after you when you leave then you might finally believe this is all real and they’re just the men who rescued you. Then maybe some day you’d find them to thank them. You feel a small amount of guilt roil in your stomach at the thought of sneaking out if that is the case.

On the other hand, if this is all just a cruel ruse for a new way to break your mind this may be the only chance you ever have to escape. At this point you’d rather die than be taken captive again. You try to push back the thoughts of the one time you’d managed to free an arm. Flexing your wrist there’s no hint of the torn flesh where you’d tried to use your teeth to open a vein.

Shaking it off you push yourself to move before it’s too late. Stepping gingerly over the line of salt you take a deep breath of what feels like the first truly free air you’ve had in too long.

When a strong hand clamps down over your mouth you think that one of the men had woken up and is trying to drag you back in. As you struggle though, you realize that the hand is too small, the angle of the arm wrapped around you too low.

“Hello there, little toy. You didn’t think you could really escape us, now did you?” The voice that slithers over the skin at your ear is immediately recognizable as one of the demons that had originally grabbed you from your apartment. 

He was also the first one that decided destroying your body on the outside wasn’t fun enough.

Panic starts to set in as you feel another arm wrap around you and press you into a body that would haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life. Your body just starts to tense up for a fight when a deep voice not belonging to the demon sounds out.

“Hey asshole!”

You feel yourself spun around and are startled by something wet splashing against your face. It takes you a second to figure out that it had come from the looming figure before you, whose normally bright green eyes were dark with rage. 

In that same moment you realize that the press of arms has disappeared and your ear is being filled by the sounds of agonized screams. Instinct has you wanting to fight off the hands that grip your arms but you’re able to think enough to realize that Dean is trying to pull you back to safety. Clearly he doesn’t expect whatever he’d just done to last.

Finding yourself yanked back into the room you turn and watch as Dean toes the disturbed line of salt back together. You watch with twisted fascination as smoke or steam rises from the face of your tormentor.

“Stay here.” Dean’s voice is firm.

You watch as he steps forward, the blade he had used at the warehouse spinning in his hand before plunging into the thing that was once a man. Sparking light flashes in his eyes and mouth before the body crumples to the ground.

As you stand there, the feeling that you may actually be okay begins to sink in. This seems like too much to be just another clever game. It’s not much but you feel the coiled knots of fear loosen just a bit.

At least they started to before Dean slams the door shut in front of you before turning to roughly grope at your sides.

_ You were wrong. You were wrong and now he was going to hurt you again. _

“Dean!” Sam’s voice sounds concerned and maybe a little angry.

“Where is it? What did you do with it you  _ stupid _ idiot?” Confused by the words coming out of his mouth you don’t immediately understand.

“I...I don’t know…” Realization dawns on you slowly. “Are you looking for that little bag that was in my pocket? It’s...it’s over there.” 

You point at the little satchel on the bed and are startled when Dean pushes past you to snatch it up. You can’t help but back up when he turns to stalk back toward you until you hit the door. When Dean is standing scant inches from you, you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for some sort of blow but all you feel is the bag being shoved back in your pocket.

“It’s too late. If he told anyone where she is that won’t help.”

“I know Sammy. We gotta get outta here now. Pack up, we’re gonna wait in the car.” 

Dean snatches the keys off the small table by the door before turning back to you. You find yourself roughly yanked away from the door before it’s opened. Pushing past you, Dean sticks his head out the door, you imagine to scan for any more people, before pulling you with him toward the shiny black car that you vaguely remember riding in the night before

When you find yourself roughly pushed up against the back door while Dean fumbles with the key to the driver side door you can’t help the small plea that escapes.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

When Dean turns to look at you, confusion swirling in his eyes, you watch as he takes in the situation. His eyes pass over your face, not missing the tears once again threatening to spill from your eyes, before moving down to the bruising grip he has on your arm and finally landing on your bare feet, noting the wet red splotches on the ground from a fresh gash in your foot caused by a piece of glass that had been on the ground near the car.

“Damn it.” You feel the grip loosen up as Dean runs his hands through his hair, the keys left jutting out of the lock in the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to..” 

Continuing to swear under his breath he unlocks the car before opening the back door and ushering you in. You slide over, trying not to get blood everywhere, and the door slams shut. You watch the rearview mirror as Dean slides in behind the steering wheel, trying not to cringe when his eyes meet yours. There’s still a hell of a lot of frustration swirling in there but there’s something more. Something softer.

“Why did you take off? I was almost too late. If I hadn’t heard the door open…” 

The softness is replace by the fury you’d seen before when Dean had faced off against the demon just a short time ago.

“I thought...I thought you might be more of them.”

“What?” 

More confusion quickly replaces the rage.

“I thought everything, the rescue, getting away, I thought it was just some new thing that they’d come up with to hurt me. I thought any second your eyes were gonna turn black and I’d be right back in that warehouse, tied up and…”

“And now?” 

You could tell by the look in his eyes that what he really wants to know is if he needs to worry about you running again.

“I...I believe you’re trying to keep me safe.” 

You look down at your hands, guilt at making their job harder starting to get to you. You suppress a small start when the passenger door is yanked open before two bags are shoved over the back of the front seat followed long limbs and shaggy hair.

“All set, let’s get out of here.” When Sam’s words are first met with silence he looks around, a little lost. “What’s up?”

“We’ve got a lot to talk about.” Dean turns the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life. He slams into reverse and backs out of the parking space before throwing the car into drive, peeling out loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos give me life.
> 
> Come see me at http://spnbrennafae.tumblr.com/


	3. Answers

You make it about a mile down the road before Dean remembers he hadn’t used the bathroom upon waking and suddenly, on the long stretch of wooded roads, it’s become very clear that was a mistake. You watch silently as Sam and Dean argue briefly before Dean pulls sharply off the road. You can hear him swearing loudly as he goes crashing through the woods.

You and Sam sit in awkward silence for a moment before he speaks.

“I’m sorry about Dean. Sometimes when he’s mission oriented he can be kinda oblivious to the small things.” 

The way Sam can’t seem to meet your eyes tells you that he’s at least in part talking about last night. You feel your face flushing in shame and you quickly push down the memories of what Sam must be thinking about before they choke you.

“It’s my fault.” When Sam starts to object you cut him off. “All the two of you have done is keep me safe and I’ve ignored it, instead holding on to the idea that you were just a trick. All because the idea of hope-” You’re voice cracks and you have to take a moment to compose yourself. “Because hope was scarier than being trapped back there.”

“It’s okay-”

“No. I could have gotten the two of you killed this morning. It’s not okay. I just...why did all this happen to me Sam?” 

The question of why has been haunting you since the moment you were taken and you search desperately for the answers in the kind hazel eyes looking back at you. For a moment you see something swimming in their depths but the moment is lost when the car door wrenches open and Dean flops down into his seat before bringing the car back to life.

As the car pulls out, tires spinning in the loose dirt, Sam looks back and catches your gaze.

“We’ll talk soon. I promise.” You see Dean’s eyebrow raise in the mirror as he looks between the two of you but he says nothing. The rest of the ride is silent.

At least it  _ was _ until your stomach had to go and rumble at an embarrassingly loud level. Sam turns to you, his features laced with concern.

“When was the last time you ate?”

You have to think hard to remember the dried up pizza crusts and water that they had fed you yesterday morning. You didn’t hesitate to believe them when they laughed about having fished them out of the trash at the nearby convenience store. 

You couldn’t be bothered by it then, considering it had been almost two days before then that they had last fed you but now as Sam watches you, waiting for an answer, the embarrassment at the enthusiasm with which you’d eaten garbage was almost too much. You had to look away before answering softly.

“Yesterday morning.” 

You don’t have to tell them  _ what _ you’d eaten, they only asked about when. You nearly jump out of your skin when Dean’s fist slams down on the steering wheel.

“Son of a bitch.” 

You watch as the muscles in his jaw tense up and then just as quickly release. When he speaks again his tone is softer and the self-recrimination in it makes something buried in you well up with sadness for him.

“I’m so sorry. We didn’t even….we should have asked you.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t being very communicative.”

Dean’s eyes flash to yours in the mirror before returning to watch the road.

“Don’t do that. _You’re_ the one who's been through hell here. You don’t need to make _me_ feel better about not even thinking about the fact that those demonic pricks didn’t bother with feeding you. _Damn_ _it!_ I just..I’ve been so focused on keeping you hidden from them and then you keep trying to run away that-”

“What do you mean  _ keep?” _

“Well, I mean I get it now, I do. But this morning and then last night when you nearly got us all killed.” 

You ignore the smack that Sam throws Dean’s way to get him to shut up, focusing instead on trying to make Dean’s words make sense.

“I don’t...what are you talking about?” 

You’re trying to figure it out but can’t make heads or tails out of Dean’s words.

“What do you remember about what happened last night after we left the warehouse?” 

You sense a note of concern in Sam’s voice that unsettles you.

“I don’t know...I was so tired. They hadn’t let me sleep in two days and even then I didn’t technically sleep, I passed out after...after they hurt me.” Shaking the memories that try to claw their way up away, you push on. “I must have fallen asleep but then next thing I know you two had dragged me from the car and had me pinned down in the dirt.”

“ _ Damn it! _ ” 

Another slam to the steering wheel echos through the car.

“That isn’t how it happened.” The kindness in Sam’s eyes is almost too much to bear. “You were quiet in the back seat for a while and then all of a sudden you were screaming and yelling at us to let you go. When neither of us did anything you landed a great sucker punch to Dean’s head and we nearly drove off the road into a tree. When we stopped you bolted from the car. I managed to grab you to keep you from running off barefoot in the woods but you were fighting so hard. We didn’t know what to do, we were just afraid you were gonna hurt yourself more than you already were so between the two of us we managed to hold you down. But then you stopped fighting and we got you back into the car and it was like nothing had happened.”

You struggle so hard to try and remember any of it but all you can put together is getting into the back of the car when you were running from the warehouse and then waking up with rocks and twigs pressing into your back and two large men holding you down.

“I’m so sorry.” You can’t force yourself to look up at either of the men that are watching you, one turned to look intently, the other casting glances back every so often in the mirror. “I’ve been nothing but trouble for you since the moment you walked into that building. I can’t...I don’t want to keep doing this to you. If you just..drop me off some place with a phone I can call my aunt and figure out a way to get home.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” 

You glance up to look at Dean’s reflection and find him watching you more intently than he should be considering he’s driving. When he flashes you a wink you can’t help the tiny smile that barely touches your lips. You’re a bit startled when you realize it’s the first smile you’ve managed since before you were grabbed. You don’t really feel it, it’s almost reflexive, but it’s there.

Of course when Dean suddenly pulls into a gas station and parks right next to a pay phone you wonder briefly if he’s changed his mind. When he doesn’t say anything but instead just gets out of the car and stalks into the store you look over at Sam who looks back and shrugs with a small smile. 

You get the feeling he spends a lot of time explaining his enigmatic...what is he? Coworker? Boyfriend? You hadn’t really had much time to exchange details what with you being either unconscious or terrified. Conversation seems like as good a thing as any to distract you from your thoughts, the silence in the car getting to you. You don’t want time to think.

“So you guys seem to have a pretty smooth operation going. You didn’t even really have to talk back...back there.” Thankfully you could tell by Sam’s expression that he understood what you were talking about. “How long have you two been...together, doing this?”

“Pretty much for as long as I can remember.” 

You’re surprised by the mix of emotions that cross over his face. There’s definitely regret, maybe even pain, but there is also a ghost of a smile on his lips that expresses a certain fondness.

“Oh, that’s nice.” You hesitate, trying to pick your words. “It’s not often that people who meet young and work together manage to stick together for so long.”

“Well, I guess in our case we don’t really have a choice.” Sam’s barking laugh confuses you more than his words. “Although there were a few times where we didn’t talk for a while but that happens with family under the best of circumstances.”

“Oh.  _ Oh. _ I thought, I mean I didn’t... _ ” _

“What?” Sam gives you a crooked smile, his eyebrow quirked as he tries to follow your thinking. You see the moment when what you were thinking registers and then Sam throws his head back in a loud, almost uncontrollable laugh. He manages to get a few words out between laughs and gasping breaths “He’s...my...brother…”

You feel a flush creeping up your skin. You’re about to make what you’re sure will be some awkward mix of a bumbled apology and an entirely lacking explanation when you’re saved by the wrenching open of the driver’s door. Dean slides smoothly in with practiced ease, settling four stuffed plastic bags on the seat between him and Sam. He shoots a questioning look at Sam, who’s still chuckling.

“What’s so funny?”

Sam glances back at you, ready to respond when he notes the color flooding your face and the fact that you are currently sinking lower and lower into the seat. His laugh dies down and switches to a slightly strangled sounding cough before he’s shaking his head at Dean.

“Nothing, man. What the heck did you do, buy out the store?”

Dean looks up at you in the mirror and shrugs sheepishly.

“I didn’t know what you’d like so I got a little bit of everything.”

Dean starts pulling things out and holding them up as he lists them off.

“Let’s see, we’ve got some sandwiches; ham and cheese, turkey and cheese, salami and cheese and if you don’t like cheese there’s tuna or chicken salad.” Dean pauses as he moves onto the next bag. “Here we’ve got your healthy bag, although the shelf life of some of it makes it questionable. I’ve got a couple of apples, a banana, some dried fruit and something called... _ kale chips _ ? I dunno...sounds...healthy.”

Sam reaches over towards the bag Dean had just gone through but before he has a chance to touch anything Dean smacks his hand away.

“Ow!”

“Back off, bitch!”

“That hurt, jerk!”

“Cry me a river Samantha.”

You can’t help but gawk at the two until you realize that their bickering has an undertone of affection to it, although you aren’t even sure that  _ they’re _ aware of it. This must be what it’s like to have siblings. 

You relax back into the seat as you watch Dean start rifling through the next bag.

“Now here we got your drinks. I’ve orange juice, apple juice, caffeinated soda, caffeine free soda, water and of course,” Dean pulls the last two out with a flourish of hands and a smile on his face, “Johnny Walker and a six pack of beer.” 

The twang in his voice practically triples when he speaks and it makes you smile somewhere deep down, buried beneath all the black, but it’s there and this time you feel it.

“Jesus, Dean. It’s what, nine o’clock in the morning?”

“So? Shut up!” 

Both men’s faces form deep scowls as they mentally square off. You’re almost afraid to speak and interrupt but you can’t help it.

“I’ll have a beer.” 

Seriously, you’ve never been a terribly loud person but you hope that your voice will stop sounding so small and weak soon. For a moment you don’t think they hear you but then you see the small smile of victory curl up on Dean’s lips and the softening of Sam’s scowl into just a slight frown as he glances back at you before looking forward again. 

Dean pops the top off the bottle with a practiced sweep of his hand before passing it back to you over the seat, his eyes never leaving his brother. Sam rolls his eyes at Dean when he opens up one for himself.

You turn the bottle in your hand, skimming a finger over the label, the cold condensation pooling in your palm. You don’t particularly like beer but right now you definitely feel like dulling your senses. 

As everything had settled in the car you’d noticed sounds start to play in your mind, every so often; the soft scrape of sharp metal, the dull thud of hard objects hitting muscle and bone, the hiss of heat burning into flesh, and worst of all the screams of your own voice. It wasn’t constant but it was coming in brief flashes. 

Then there were the phantom pains, the ones you definitely shouldn’t have since every single wound you had was fully healed. And yet every once in awhile you would feel it shoot through you, low and faded, but there.

Shaking off the thoughts you bring the bottle to your mouth and down about half of it in one swallow. When you pull it away you’re met with two very different expressions. Dean is looking on with almost a sense of admiration while Sam’s is leaning more toward concern. 

You clear your throat softly, bringing attention to the fact that they’re both starting at you and it sets them both into motion. Sam grabs the bottle of orange juice to pop open and drink. Dean takes a quick pull from his bottle before settling it between his thighs. He snatches up the last bag with a big grin.

“And now, best for last, junk food!” He starts tossing each item out at Sam in what appears to be an attempt to annoy. “We’ve got chips, we’ve got beef jerky, we’ve got candy bars of many different variations and get this,” He pauses for dramatic effect, “This hole in the wall crap fest has fresh baked goods. Something about his wife making them to sell on the side. I’ve got chocolate cake, cookies, brownies...they only had one piece of pie left,” the expression on his face is somewhat pained as he holds a small plastic container up toward you. “Do you want it?” You’re curious as to why Sam’s eyebrows shoot up almost to his hairline.

“No, I think maybe something a little less sweet...maybe the ham and cheese sandwich if that’s okay?” 

The look of relief on Dean’s face is almost comical. He digs out the sandwich and hands it back to you before digging through the bag and grabbing his own. Tossing the bag at Sam he looks back at you.

“Anything else?”

Biting down on your lip and scrunching your nose you contemplate the other items. You doubt you’ll even finish the sandwich and are somewhat concerned about keeping it down at all but you feel bad about Dean getting all of this and not having more.

“How about one of the apples?” Dean looks pleased as he grabs one and tosses it back to you. You fumble a little but manage to keep it from dropping to the floor. Unwrapping the sandwich you begin to pick slowly at it. 

Dean pulls out to get back on the road and you let the voices of your rescuers bickering in the front seat about what to do next wash over you and turn to a soft blur of noise.

You’re able to get down half the sandwich, the rest of the beer and a couple of bites of apple before your stomach starts to protest. The decision is made to drive as far as possible until nightfall to put as much distance between your last known location and you before getting a decent night’s sleep. Then in the morning a new plan will be discussed. You’ve still got so many questions but you’d rather ask them when you aren’t in a moving vehicle that makes it easier for them to not look you in the eye. 

You’re somewhat surprised that you don’t drift off as you watch the scenery go by. Evidently whatever that man...Cas...did to you, really had you out in a solid sleep.

Thankfully the time seemed to pass rather quickly as you listen to the classic rock music blaring through the car. Sam suggests that playing it so loud might not be something you want but it’s nice, it drowns out some of those sounds in your head, along with a second beer.

Between the three of you, you manage to polish off the food that had been purchased. Dean covers a fair amount of distance since you only have to stop for bathroom breaks. The first stop is for Sam and while he’s in the bathroom Dean pulls out a first aid kit to work on cleaning and bandaging your foot. The next is for you and when you realize you have to go you almost go into a panic at the idea of being alone in the bathroom but Sam takes your arm and escorts you to the bathroom and his presence on the other side of the door proves enough to keep you calm.

When you get to the motel, you wait in the car with Dean while Sam goes in to rent a room. Dean surprises you when he places a hand over yours as you reach to grab the bottle of whiskey from the front seat, the beer long gone. He smiles at you sympathetically as he pulls your hand away.

“I know what it’s like to go through something really awful and then to have it all swept away with the expectation that healing the body means everything is hunkey dorey. You need to know that  _ we _ don’t have that expectation. You also need to know that this,” he lifts the bottle and tips it towards you, “Isn’t gonna fix everything.” You can feel the frown tugging your eyebrows down. Then you watch as Dean unscrews the cap to take drink before handing it back to you. “But it does a heck of a job dulling everything until you’re ready to deal.”

You take the bottle gratefully and take a small sip, the liquid burning a trail down your throat before settling warmly in your stomach.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

Sam comes back just a minute later and you all walk quickly to the motel room. You sit back and watch as the two of them line the windows and door with salt. They explain to you that this keeps out the demons as well as some other things that go bump in the night. It hits you about then that this is going to be information you'll need in the future and you wonder if you’ll spend the rest of your life looking over your back.

The only way to know that is to find out why you were grabbed in the first place so you guess it’s time to start asking questions. You contemplate how to go about it. The millions of questions you could ask. Do you make them all sit down first or is standing better? Do you explain you’ve got these questions or do you just start demanding answers? In the end you just sit on the edge of a bed, looking down at the hands folded in your lap. Your voice comes out small and weak. You find you don’t have it in you to demand.

“Why?”

Dean and Sam both pause in what they’re doing to turn and look at each other before looking at you. You know they understand what you’re asking but find yourself needing to clarify.

“Why did they do this to me? Why are they  _ still _ doing this to me?” 

You feel tears start to pool in your eyes as bile burns in your throat.

Sam is the first to move. He walks cautiously toward you and you can tell he’s trying to gauge your reaction at his nearness when he stops at the end of the bed. When you don’t make a move to get space he sits down gently and reaches for the hand that’s currently tearing the nails of your other hand down to the nail bed. Your hand practically disappears in his two large ones. Dean grabs a chair from the kitchenette and drags it over so that he’s sitting facing you while still leaving a few feet of distance between the two of you.

“How much do you know about what your dad does for work?”

You almost tweak your neck you move so fast to meet Sam’s gaze with a confused one of your own.

“My dad? He..he’s a derrick hand. He works for an oil company that has drills all over the country and he travels between them...why are you asking me about my dad?”

Dean’s the one who answers this time and by the way Sam looks at him you get the feeling Sam would have been less blunt.

“He isn’t a derrick...whatever. He’s a hunter. Like me and Sammy.”

You know you’re staring at him like he's grown a second head but what he's saying just isn't computing. Sure you only saw your dad on and off throughout the year but he was busy with work and you’re an adult. 

And when you were a kid you knew you didn't see him much because your parents had had such a nasty divorce. But this? This wasn't him, he couldn't be involved. But when you start shaking your head it’s Sam who speaks this time.

“It’s a lot to take in. Why don't you let us explain first and then we can talk?” When you nod your head slowly Sam continues. “Your dad’s been hunting most of his life. A while back he hunted with our dad. They worked together long enough that your dad must have given his sister, your aunt, our dad’s cell as a back up. So when she found out you were missing she tried to get ahold of your dad. When that didn't work she tried our dad. We have his cell phone, “ Sam pauses and you consider asking why but then decide it's not a good time so instead you wait for him to go on. 

“So we got the call and did some digging. We found out that in recent years your dad had decided to take a more proactive and less physical role in hunting. He got really good at spotting desperate people looking to make deals. So he would camp out at bars near crossroads and keep an eye out for people who were considering making a huge mistake. Then he’d follow them to the crossroads and talk them out of making a demon deal. We were kinda surprised to find out his methods were pretty effective. Effective enough for the demons to do a little looking into why their numbers had dipped. When they found out what your dad was doing they were pissed. Their boss put out a hit on him to all things that are ugly and evil and he had to go into hiding. That's when some of the demons decided to band together in a plan to drag your dad out of hiding. Unfortunately they figured out you were his only weak spot so they grabbed you.”

“But...but that's stupid! I mean even if all this is true then why would they...I mean he probably doesn't even know I was missing!” All of this happened to you because some idiot demon thought more of your relationship with your dad than there was? “How did they expect him to find me?” 

Your stomach starts to sink a little when you notice the boys are both shifting uncomfortably and not looking at you.

“Probably the same way we did.” Dean's voice is low when he speaks and is directed at his shoes. “We ah...we ganked a couple of vamps while we were looking for information and they had this...this picture with an address. We were able to find out before we offed the last one that they had instructions to get it into hunters’ hands.”

“What was the picture of, Dean?” 

You can feel the first waves of nausea start to rumble through your stomach. You stare intently at Dean, who still won't look up, waiting for an answer but it's Sam’s soft voice at your ear that finally does.

“It’s a picture of you...you're...you're unconscious and strapped to a table. You're...you're naked and bleeding  _ everywhere _ .”

You're on your feet and running to the bathroom before either man can react. As you're emptying your stomach of the dinner and alcohol in it you feel a hand pull your hair back from your face while another one gently rubs circles on your back. 

As the heaves begin to slow you hear the water turn on and then another hand presses a cool damp cloth to your forehead. Soft shushing noises and calming words blend together and you couldn’t say which one it was or if it was both.

Ten minutes later you find yourself settled back at the edge of the bed. This time Sam is seated across from you and Dean is leaning against the wall near the bed, his hands jammed into his pockets. Both seemed to pick up on the fact that you needed a little bit of physical space.

“You sure you want to hear the rest right now? We can do this in the morning when you’ve had some time to rest.” 

Sam’s voice is so gentle and sincere that you almost take him up on the offer. Honestly you want nothing more than to just curl up in a ball and forget everything that had happened, that had been said. But you know you can’t, that you never will, so it’s better to just get it all out, like ripping off a bandaid. When Sam sees you nod he continues on. Dean stays mostly silent, his tense frame glued to the wall.

“We managed to grab one of their lackeys when he was out on an errand and, “ Sam stops and shifts uncomfortably before continuing on. “We made him talk. Evidently the demons that had teamed up weren’t just out to get the bounty. They’d all been punished for failing  _ their _ bosses in some way that they blamed your father for so when they had the opportunity to get a little revenge they took it out on you. We found out where they were keeping you. You know the rest from there.”

“So where’s my dad in all this?” 

You can’t help the bitterness that leaks out with your words. You love your dad. He may not have been around much but when he was he made you feel like the center of the universe. Now you find out that at least some of what he was had been a lie. Worse than that his lies had left you exposed and so very vulnerable. 

Sure, there’s a chance that you may not have been able to stop this from happening, regardless, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make anger simmer inside you, deep beneath the black mass of fear that won’t go away.

“We’re not sure. We’ve got a friend of ours getting in touch with contacts all over the place. He’s done a good job of hiding his tracks but  _ someone _ has to know where he is and we  _ will  _ find him.”

You nod to Sam as you feel your body slumping, the weight of everything pressing into you. You briefly wonder if the demons might go after another target but with your mom having been gone for a few years now it had just been you and your aunt for family. 

Dean had mentioned earlier that she had gone to stay with a friend at their insistence. You had also gotten the feeling that your aunt had been just about as honest with you about what your dad did as he was.

“We should probably figure out what you want to do next.” Sam looks up at Dean, who glares back at him. “We’re having a...difference of opinions on that front but you should probably have a say.”

The thought of having to do any serious thinking right now has your stomach turning almost as much as the thought that you’re about to be dumped back at your apartment completely alone. You interrupt Sam just when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Can we...can we just go to bed? I’m pretty tired.” Dean pushes off the wall and rushes over to his bag.

“Yeah, yeah! Of course...let me, let me just…” Dean pulls out fistfull after fistful of clothes before his hands slow. “I..uh...I have to do laundry. I already gave you my last pair of clean sweats.” You can’t stop the slight blush that colors your cheeks. Obviously you were aware that you were wearing someone’s clothes but made explicitly clear it definitely makes a difference. The old you would be quipping about getting into Dean’s pants. You miss the old you.

Of course the new you can still get embarrassed through and through, so when Dean pulls out a pair of boxers and hesitantly offers them up with a t-shirt and the reassurance that they’re clean you know that the shade of pink on your cheeks deepens to an almost scarlet color. 

But Dean looks like he’s trying so hard to be helpful and you don’t have the heart to decline. Snatching the clothes from his hand you turn and make a beeline to the bathroom. Dean hollers something about keeping the hex bag close. You close the door behind you, hearing Sam say something about getting you clothes tomorrow.

A quick shower and Dean’s clean clothes on has you stepping out of the bathroom just in time to see Dean lose a game of Rock Paper Scissors. He swears a blue streak until he looks up and spots you. He eaks out a sheepish apology before brushing past you to the bathroom with a small bag in his hands. You look over at Sam, who has a huge grin on his face, and quirk an eyebrow at him in question.

“I won the bed.” Sam says with a shrug.

“Oh! Oh no! I should take the couch. I’m like half as tall as both of you!” 

You start walking toward the small loveseat but Sam’s large hand settles gently on your shoulder. You’re proud that you only jump a little instead of going into a blind panic at the unexpected touch. He quickly moves away, an apology in his eyes that thankfully doesn’t reach his lips. You’d already had enough of those.

“I wouldn’t bother. Even if you manage to talk me into it, which is unlikely, Dean will just carry your ass to the bed if he comes out and finds you asleep there.” When Sam sees your eyes narrow down he puts his hands up in mock defense and decides to clarify. “It makes more sense to put you in the bed furthest from the door. We don’t think they’ll find us just yet but that puts Dean and me both between you and the door.”

You glance at the door, then the bathroom door, before landing back on Sam.

“He wouldn’t...he wouldn’t really, would he?” 

Sam answers with a laugh and you get the feeling Dean is not above such methods of getting his way. Sighing heavily you walk over to sit on the edge of the bed after placing the hex bag on your pillow. You start to slip between the sheets when Sam gestures at you to wait. You watch him curiously as he pulls a small bag from his duffle before moving over to kneel in front of you. He gently lifts your foot and examines the injury on it.

You’d almost forgotten about it until you had to take off the bandage before getting into the shower. Honestly it had kind of just blended in and you brushed it off as a phantom pain. Dean must have mentioned it to Sam at some point. The sting of the antiseptic normally would be quite painful but now you find it to barely register. That should probably concern you but you push that thought back with all the others.

When Sam finishes cleaning and bandaging your foot you shift on the bed and slip between the sheets. You consider the bottle of whiskey you know Dean brought in from the car but your stomach churns unpleasantly at the thought. You wish there was some way to dull the voices and the phantom pains but another trip to the toilet isn’t terribly appealing. Instead you curl up on your side, back to the bed and couch, and will your body to relax.

It’s not long before you hear the bathroom door open and then shut again. You can hear Dean moving about the room, trying to be quiet. 

The water turns on in the bathroom and you figure Sam’s in there getting ready for bed too. Running your tongue over your teeth you're suddenly horrified to think of how long it's been since you brushed your teeth. You definitely want to remedy that tomorrow.

When the bathroom door opens again and you hear hushed voices you strain to listen but can’t make anything out. Soon the moving around stops and you hear the sound of bodies settling against furniture before the light glowing through your shut lids dims.

Now you settle in for a long night. Because you lied earlier. You aren’t tired. In fact, the idea of of sleep is almost repulsive. Your body feels like a live wire that’s going to shake apart at any moment. Your mind can’t stop thinking of what could happen to you while you’re sleeping. 

So you lay there and try to block out the ghosts. You focus on the sounds around you, the ticking of the tableside clock, the harmony of breathing from the brothers protecting you. You watch as the soft light of the full moon moves across the thin curtains.

When the light on the curtains begins to glow with the light of early dawn you start losing the battle against sleep. As your eyelids begin to droop and your muscles become lax a final thought rings through your head.

_ No, please don’t make me.... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on tumblr! http://spnbrennafae.tumblr.com/
> 
> I could really use some motivation as I'm feeling a little lost in my writing at the moment.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Reality Starts to Set In, and She's a Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obstacles in your path back to a normal life are starting to become clear

Panic.

It’s first thing, no, the only thing, that’s running through your mind and body.

Something’s pinning you down, something heavy and covering everything at once. You feel your back pressed into a hard surface with sharp bits of something digging into every inch of skin. You vaguely register tearing pain at your lip before the most important realization slams into you; You can’t breathe. Whatever they’re using to press you into the...table?...is compacting your lungs and each exhale is followed by a slightly more shallow inhale. They’ve finally decided to kill you.

Then you hear voices. Not harsh, cruel voices like you expect. No mocking laughter. Soothing voices. There’s a definite edge to them but still the voices sink into you, blanketing you with warmth. Suddenly there’s light and and shapes as you blink away the sleep blurring your vision. You’re met by green and hazel eyes that are ripe with concern and everything starts flooding back. You were rescued. They saved you. They wouldn’t let anyone hurt you anymore.

You know your thoughts aren’t entirely rational but it grounds you enough to realize you’re on your back in the parking lot. It occurs to you that the weight’s lifted and you figure they must have let up when you stopped doing whatever it was you were doing to get out here. You’re surprised to note that there’s a gash trickling blood across Dean’s forehead and what looks like fingernail marks across Sam’s cheek. Probing your lip with your tongue gingerly you realize that it’s split. You taste coppery blood.

As the adrenaline of flight leaves you, you feel your body start to shake. Sobs wrack your body as tears begin to pour from your eyes. Barely a breath passes before you feel two strong sets of hands grip you and pull you forward and you find yourself laying across Dean’s lap with your head and shoulders curled against Sam’s chest.

“What’s happening to me?” Is all you manage to get out before another sob shudders through you and then you’re just there being held and rocked in the parking lot as the sky begins to tinge with pink.

Ten minutes later you find yourself cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket sitting on the bed with your knees tucked up under your chin. Dean is cleaning the gash on his forehead and Sam is sitting next to you on the bed gently cleaning your split lip. When he’s done he hands you a glass of water and a couple of aspirin, which you take dutifully, before he settles across from you on the other bed.

“What do you remember?” 

Sam tries to make eye contact with you as he speaks but you can’t look at him, having a good idea where those scratches on his face came from.

“I know I couldn’t have been sleeping very long, it wasn’t much brighter than when I fell asleep.” 

Sam and Dean exchange unreadable expressions at that and you realize that you’ve just confessed to pretending to sleep.

“One second I was here, in this bed and the next I was back on that table and there were hands and...he..he was ins-”

“So you were having a nightmare, understandable.” 

The gratitude you feel when Dean’s deep voice cuts you off is immeasurable and you give him a weak smile before continuing on.

“I just knew I had to do everything I could to get out of there. Somehow I got free and then they were trying to hold me and tie me back down so I just started swinging and...and that was you guys, wasn’t it?”

Guilt is doing nasty things to your stomach right now.

“Hey, none of that. I’m  _ glad  _ this is what you do to someone you think is trying to hurt you. Don’t you  _ ever  _ think that  _ that  _ is the problem.” Sam is nodding in your peripheral as Dean speaks.

“Dean’s right. The issue is what happens before you start fighting. Luckily you’re not terribly stealthy when you sleepwalk because you bumped into my bed when you were trying to leave. But you’re quick. You had the chain off the door and had it open before either of us could stop you. You’re pretty damn strong too, managed to drag the two of us all the way past the sidewalk and into the parking lot before we had to take you down to pin you.”

“Not that, you know, I’m not strong enough to take you. I mean, I could. I just..didn’t want to...to hurt...you.” Dean trails off as he catches Sam’s glare. 

If you weren’t so damned disturbed by these things happening to you without your knowledge or control you might even smile at Dean’s need to retain his manliness. Instead you just look down at your hands folded in your lap, frustrated when you continue to feel tears dripping onto them.

When Sam moves to sit next to you he’s so quick you don’t even have time to react before he’s holding your face between his hands and tipping it up to make you look at him.

“Listen, that fight? It’s  _ Good. _ It means they didn’t break you.” Sam smooths your hair back from your face without really loosening up his grip. His thumb brushes away moisture from your tear streaked face. “So many people wouldn’t have survived even a day of what they put you through, let alone a whole week. You’re gonna need that fight to get through what comes. We just...we just need to figure out how to keep you safe.” Sam smiles softly as he releases your face, apparently convinced you aren’t going to try and hide again. “Can’t have you make it through all this just to have you run out into traffic.”

You nod with a rather undignified sniffle. It’s not nearly as embarrassing as the loud rumble that emanates from your stomach though. It’s about then that you remember that you’d lost your dinner the night before and technically haven’t had anything since your lunch that stayed down.

“On that note, I’ve got some shopping to do.” Dean hands you his phone with a memo open on it. When you take it he awkwardly scrubs at the back of his neck. “If you write down your ah..your sizes...I’ll get you some things to wear. I’d bring you but I think you might turn a few heads wearing my underwear.”

You certain it’s just a trick of the light but you swear the tall manly man in front of you that was just defending his masculinity moments ago is blushing. It almost distracts from what you need to say, but not quite. You hold the phone back up, the memo still empty but for the blinking cursor.

“I can’t keep having you spend your money on me. I...I don’t have any of my cards or ID. The clothes I had on yesterday are fine and I’ll pay you back for the food.” 

You try unsuccessfully not to let your head drop back down, feeling awkward at having to accept their charity for even that but you know you have to eat. When Dean starts chuckling though your head snaps back up. 

“Sweetheart I ain’t plannin’ on using my hard won cash for this. I got plenty of plastic that will work just fine.” 

Your confusion must be telegraphing on your face because Sam is nice enough to explain.

“Hunting doesn’t exactly pay so we have to supplement our income. We..ah...we get credit cards under fake names.”

“How...felonious of you.” 

You mean it to sound funny, because honestly you’ve got no problem with what they do. You figure they do more than enough good to merit a little legal leniency but the way they both start shifting awkwardly lets you know your attempt at humor fell flat. 

Deciding the best way to fix the situation is to  _ show _ them it doesn’t bother you, you drop the hand still extending the phone back down so you can start tapping out your sizes. Hesitating briefly you glance up at Dean before looking back down at the phone, finishing out the list and speaking without making eye contact.

“You don’t  _ have _ to get everything on this list...I just...wasn’t sure what you were asking for.” You continue to look away as you hand back the phone. To Dean’s credit he only barely whimpers when he realizes you’ve listed bra and underwear sizes on there as well. Without any more preamble he turns and snatches the keys up from the table and heads out the door.

Looking over at Sam you see that he’s watching you with a raised eyebrow. You shrug sheepishly at him. When you start to stand from the bed you feel Sam’s large hand touch your arm to still you. To your credit you only  _ thought _ about ripping your arm away, so that’s a slight improvement. Sam reaches towards the table and grabs the hex bag that is resting there to place gently in your hand.

“I think we’ve probably put enough distance between where we were that this won’t be as necessary but just in case..”

You clutch the bag to you before turning wordlessly towards the bathroom. You hope Dean finds things with pockets or this is going to become troublesome, although very worth it.

Spotting one of the small toiletry bags you’d seen both guys with you pick it up, feeling a small amount of guilt for going through their things but asking Sam for toothpaste will only point out exactly how bad your breath must be. Finding what you’re after you pull out the tube and set it on the counter. You wash your hands thoroughly before picking it back up and squeezing a small amount onto your index finger. Better than nothing at this point. 

When you finish you head back out into the room where Sam is sitting at the little table with a laptop open.

“Hey, Sam...I forgot to ask Dean to get me a toothbrush…” Your voice trails off as you find yourself not wanting to ask for yet another thing, even something so small as a toothbrush. 

Sam tilts his head at you, an expression you can’t quite read on his face.

“You can ask us for anything you need, you know that right? You shouldn’t feel bad for needing something when you’re here with nothing but the cl-” Sam clamps his mouth shut before he can finish the oft used phrase, his cheeks flushing in what appears to be a family trait. 

The reminder that you didn’t even have that much when they found you hangs in the air between you until Sam stands abruptly.

“I’m just gonna pop out and give Dean a quick call, then I’m gonna run to the office. I think I saw a vending machine in there. I’ll grab us something to hold us over until Dean gets back.”

Sam turns to reach for the door handle but stops when he hears you speak.

“Do you...would it be okay if I used your laptop? I just wanna let my aunt and friends know I’m okay, let work know…” 

It’s about this point when it occurs to you that even if you still have a job after disappearing without a word that you don’t know if and when you’ll be able to go back to it. Sam looks at you with a mixture of sympathy and concern.

“Just, be careful okay? Don’t tell anyone where we are and make sure nothing’s gonna share your location when you send it. Believe it or not demons are pretty tech savy.” 

Sam gives you one last glance, clearly still debating leaving you alone, before heading out. You give a cursory glance to make sure the salt line is still intact before you turn to the laptop.

Opening up a web browser you log into Facebook, figuring if anyone was gonna try and get ahold of you some place other than your phone then it would be here. Sure enough you have a bunch of worried messages from your handful of close friends. Only one from your aunt though, which makes you think that she was just making sure she was correct in her suspicions before getting your dad involved.

To your friends you shoot off a message about a family emergency, keeping it  vague and open ended. To your aunt you send a message letting her know that the boys had found you and you were safe for now but that she should stay in hiding. You want to say more, rail at her for keeping you in the dark, sob to her about everything that had happened, beg her to tell you everything will be alright like she did when you broke down after your mother’s death. Instead you log off, figuring that was all pointless since you have no idea how long it will be til she gets any of it.

You’re about to close the laptop but then you change your mind, instead opening up a search engine. You don’t really know what you’re looking for or where to start. Might as well go obvious and you start typing.

**D E M O N**

The first thing you see is the block of images at the top of the page; cartoon devils, video game stills, twisted biblical visages of monsters. Somehow the truth, the fact that these monsters wear the shape of man, is much worse. Maybe it would be easier to live life if your nightmares were filled with these creatures instead of the person sitting next to you on the bus or the woman who serves you coffee.

You scan through some of the links, most of which seem to lead to the same type of material. One catches your attention though. The page is a blog titled The Black Fog. It tugs at something in your memory. Early on in the week there had been another female demon at the factory. Your stomach turns when you remember her complaining that the boys were having more fun. She said something about ‘losing this meatsuit’ and then this black smoke had poured out of her body before it collapsed to the floor. A new demon had joined your tormentors later that day.

Clicking on the link brings you to an extensive blog with several entries. The first one that shows up is sort of an explanation of the title. You read about how when demons aren’t inhabiting people they’re made up of this black smoke. 

Scrolling through you see things that are familiar already, information about salt, symbols that you’d seen when Sam had thrown the shotgun he had into the trunk of his car, holy water that Dean had explained was what you’d felt him splash on you and the demon.

Spotting a search bar at the top of the page you decide to try that. There are certain answers you're looking for and sifting through this might take longer than you have. You shoot a quick glance over your shoulder at the closed door before typing in your search.

**D E M O N  T R A C K I N G**

The search pops up a link that discusses how to summon demons. Why on earth anyone would want to do that is beyond you. You try again.

**H O W  D O  D E M O N S  T R A C K  P E O P L E**

You hesitate before hitting enter. You feel like the answers about the rest of your life are on the other side of that little click. Whatever you find will be what you have to contend with and that might mean the difference between some day moving on with your life or being on the run and in hiding until the day you die. Closing your eyes you click and then freeze. 

When you work up the courage to look you’re frustrated at what you find. One tiny line in an article on crossroad demons. That’s all there is. That line lists two things, although it does specify these are the  _ known _ methods demons use. The first one is spells, fairly obvious although it doesn’t specify what spells or how they track. The second one is enough to have your blood run cold: Hell Hounds.

Frustrated at the lack of information you back out of the site and return to the search engine. Not knowing what else to do you type in hell hounds and you immediately regret it. You try to remember how wrong the images of demons had been in your first search but reason seems to have abandoned ship as your screen is filled with images of beasts some on their own, some tearing into flesh, all twisted and terrifying. Panic start to claw up into your throat as your ears fill with the sound of rushing blood. White spots begin to dance in your vision.

When a hand reaches over you and shuts the laptop, instinct kicks in and has you swinging but you find your arms pinned to your side before you and whomever has you both fall to the floor. Twisting around you find yourself looking into hazel eyes half covered by brown locks of hair. You see his lips moving but can’t figure out why there’s no sound coming out. Sam grips the sides of your face and as you watch his lips you begin to make it out, one word over and over.

_ Breathe. _

Two things occur to you at that moment. You are, in fact,  _ not _ breathing and you’re also about two seconds away from unconsciousness as white spots begin to grow and connect. You  _ know _ you need to breathe. You scream at your body to comply. But it isn’t listening and you find yourself helpless as your vision is completely taken over by white.

Distantly you feel something press against your mouth. Air starts flooding into your lungs, forcing the vice wrapped around them to begin to loosen. The white begins to fade from your vision only to be replaced by...brown? Something is tickling at your eyes and your nose is being painfully pinched.

Suddenly the last grip on your lungs is released and you drag in a deep, gasping breath. When your vision finally clears you’re confused to see Sam’s face hovering inches away. His eyes are swamped with concern and he’s heaving like he just ran a marathon. You’re lying on the floor and don’t quite remember how you got here.

Then it all comes back. You want to ask Sam for answers, reassurances, anything.

“Sam-” The weak little sound of a word is all you can form as your body is racked with tremors as you keep struggling to draw in ragged breaths. 

With your eyes pressed closed you feel more than see Sam shift before you’re being pulled up and cradled in strong arms.

It takes a few moments before your oxygen deprived body returns to some sense of normalcy and you regain full function of it. After giving you a minute to compose yourself Sam helps you stand and then pulls the other chair around next to the one you’d been in.

“Come show me what had you so freaked out.” 

He sits down and waits for you to follow before putting his hand on the laptop. When you’re settled he opens it up and you can’t help but force your eyes shut.

“Are they real?”

“Hell hounds?” You hear the pause in Sam’s voice and you don’t need to know the answer but you get it anyway. “Yeah.”

So this is what you have the pleasure of spending the rest of your life running from. How are you supposed to hide from supernatural bloodhounds?

“Is that...is that what they look like?”

You didn’t like the way that Sam shifted uncomfortably.

“No, not really.”

“So what do they look like?” You ask, prodding for answers.

“Well usually nothing. They’re invisible.” 

Great, just like the demons, the truth was so much worse. How can you protect yourself against something you can’t see coming?

“But you don’t have to worry about it.” Sam rushes on. “Hellhounds are usually reserved for fulfillment of demon deals and I don’t imagine you making any of those any time soon.” Sam says with a wry grin.

You couldn’t explain it if you tried but something about the way Sam smiles at you has some of the residual tightness easing from your chest. As long as that smile is there you can pretend that everything’s going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave comments and kudos to feed my muse <3
> 
> Come visit me at http://spnbrennafae.tumblr.com/
> 
> Might be a little slower going as I've gotten as far as I was when I started posting chapters for this story. I hoped to stay a few chapters ahead but it caught up to me. I know where I'm going, just having a little trouble with how to get there. Where is Google Maps when you need it?


	5. Shopping Spree at Guns and Ammo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sure does make his life more difficult by not talking to you before he throws himself into something.

You’re curled up on the bed watching some local news station, the remnants of the dry granola bar on the nightstand, when you hear what sounds like a heavy boot kicking the door. Sam’s immediately on his feet, his gun in his hand. He’s moving cautiously to the window when Dean’s muffled voice sounds out.

“Sammy! Let me in! These bags are heavy!”

Sam relaxes visibly and tucks the gun back into his waistband before he opens the door. Dean walks in and your eyes go wide. He’s carrying easily a dozen bags, all stuffed full, as well as what looks to be a take out bag.

When Dean sees you eyeing the bags he gives a frustrated shrug.

“Keep forgetting to ask you what  _ you _ want.”

He throws a glance over his shoulder at Sam.

“Coffee’s in the car, Sammy. Make yourself useful.”

Sam rolls his eyes at Dean before heading out to the car.

Dean dumps the bags on the bed next to you before sitting on the side of the other bed to rifle through the take out. You barely have time to react when a tightly wrapped breakfast burrito comes flying at you. You manage to catch it before it smacks you in the chest. Thankfully the granola bar had taken the edge off your hunger, so you manage to retain  _ some _ dignity by not swallowing the burrito whole. The same can’t be said for the coffee that Sam hands you when he comes back in with the tray. The sound that comes out of you as the hot liquid pours into your mouth is damn near obscene. However much sleep you had gotten before your nightmare took hold was definitely not enough.

After you finish your breakfast and possibly the best cup of coffee on the planet you rummage through the bags. The first thing you find surprises you. It’s a large canvas duffle bag. You hadn’t even considered the fact that you would need something to carry the clothes in but then again you hadn’t expected Dean to come back with an entire wardrobe. 

You dig through the bags and find a huge variety; jeans, t-shirts, dresses, soft yoga pants, shorts, sweaters. To be honest it looked like Dean had pretty much grabbed everything that came in your size until his cart was full. 

Another bag contains footwear; a pair of boots, a pair of sneakers and a pair of black matte mary janes with a low heel. When you reach into another bag and pull an item out without looking you immediately regret it. You find yourself holding up a bra and panty set made of nothing but black lace with delicate red details sewn along the deep v of the cup in a way that was meant to draw attention. 

This was lingerie meant to show off, not to cover. Sam and Dean have both been watching you as covertly as they can, both pretending to be otherwise occupied but both lose all pretense. If you weren’t so damned embarrassed yourself you might’ve enjoyed their comical expressions. Sam’s brow is furrowed, his mouth forming an angry frown. Dean’s eyes go wide, his mouth forming a surprised “oh”.

“Dean! Seriously?”

“Hey now, wait a damn minute.  _ I  _ didn’t pick that stuff out. I just bought whatever the person in the underwear section put in the cart!” Dean says, scowling at the underwear.

That’s about the time you realize you’re still holding the garments in question up on display. You shove them back in the bag.

“Right and you didn’t notice them when you had to put them up to be paid for either right?” The sarcasm drips from Sam’s voice as he speaks.

“C’mon Sammy, I’m not  _ that _ big an ass.” Dean says with frustration as he scrubs at the back of his neck.

“Guys, it’s okay.” You manage to say loudly enough to stop the arguing. “There’s plenty more in here...besides, they’re pretty.”

You feel embarrassment flood through you as you speak but you really want to erase the guilt you can see on Dean’s face behind the frustration. Signalling you’re done with the discussion you go back to sorting through the bags. There  _ are _ plenty of other undergarments; a few multi packs of underwear, a couple packages of socks and five more bras ranging from sports bra to girly but functional bra.

“I’m gonna go for a walk, I wanna give Garth a call and my signal is crap in here.” The lie slips easily from Sam’s lips.

You can’t blame him for needing a break from dealing with your hysterics and walking on eggshells around you though. After he leaves you grab the last bag and are surprised to find it full of toiletries as well as another canvas bag similar to the ones Dean and Sam keep their toiletries in. 

You transfer flowery scented deodorant, strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner, body wash, a fluffy pink loofa and a brush. The last thing you grab has you unnaturally excited. You snatch up the toothbrush and toothpaste and slide off the bed, barely managing to avoid knocking bags onto the floor as you dash to the bathroom. Tearing open the packaging you load up the toothbrush with toothpaste and begin brushing your teeth with a ridiculously loud moan, your head tipped back and your eyes closed.

A soft chuckle from the doorway has you looking at Dean’s reflection in the mirror with a sheepish grin, toothbrush still hanging from between your lips.

“It’s been awhile...feels good.” You manage to say, your voice muffled by the foam in your mouth.

Dean grins back at you through the mirror before his eyes drop to his hands which are currently worrying at the lip of the paper coffee cup in his hands.

“I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable, I should have-”

You don’t give Dean a chance to finish.

“Hey Dean?” You wait til he’s looking back up and making eye contact with you in the mirror again before continuing “You and Sam are the only thing keeping me sane, okay?”

Dean stares at you for a beat before ducking his head and nodding. Without another word he turns and leaves you to finish brushing your teeth. 

When you get back to the room Dean’s at the laptop. You go to the bags on the bed and start shifting things from the plastic to the canvas, setting aside a pair of soft black yoga pants, a plain light blue v neck t-shirt, socks, a pair of plain cotton underwear from one of the packages and a plain white bra. Once you’ve got the rest put away you grab your newly packed toiletry bag and clean clothes and duck into the bathroom. 

Fifteen minutes later, ten of which was spent wrestling with the mattes in your hair, you emerge feeling somewhat human. You can almost ignore how tired you are or how some of your muscles are still aching from your sleep induced prize fight.

You had heard low voices speaking while you were in the bathroom so you aren’t surprised when you walk out and see that Sam is back. You  _ are  _ a little uncomfortable though because as soon as you open the door the talking stops abruptly, an obvious indicator that you had been the topic of conversation. 

Sam’s sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He straightens up and puts a smile on his face when he sees you looking at him but you can tell it’s strained. Dean doesn’t attempt to make such pretenses. He’s leaning against the wall near the TV stand, arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he inspects the weave of the dirty carpet at his feet.

“Hey guys...what’s...uh...what’s up?” you ask awkwardly as you glance between the two of them them.

They sit for a few more moments in silence, both waiting for the other to speak.

“We’re having a difference of opinions on what our focus should be on right now,” Sam says, breaking the awkward standoff, “ _ I _ think that our goal should be finding your dad. Our buddy Garth has a possible lead on a way to contact him and I think the safest thing to do is to get you into hiding with him and  _ then _ we can work on dealing with the demons who might be after you.”

“That’s crap, Sammy! She should stay with us so  _ we _ can keep her safe until we get this taken care of.” Dean practically shouts.

“Right Dean, because people around us are always so safe.” Sam says, his voice raising to meet Dean’s.

You let them glower at each other for a moment before you clear your throat.

“Do I get a say in this?” you ask. Both of them answer at the same time.

“Of course.” Sam says gently.

“No!” Dean says, much less gently.

You narrow your eyes at Dean and you don’t take them off of him while you speak.

“I agree with Dean.”

Dean’s expression turns smug as he looks over at his brother. Sam, on the other hand, looks like he’s ready to mount an argument so you head him off.

“Look, I love my dad. But he  _ didn’t _ keep me safe. If he had, we wouldn’t be here. I don’t blame him for what they did. But he took away my ability to keep  _ myself _ safe by lying to me. Then, he went into hiding without giving me a second thought. I don’t know if it didn’t occur to him that I might in danger or if just he didn’t care. Maybe someday I’ll get answers from him but the only people that have done anything to keep me safe are you guys.”

“Hey, I totally get it, I do.” Sam says with his hands raised in surrender, “I don’t know if it helps but I think that not telling you was your dad’s way of keeping you safe and giving you a normal life.” 

“Well it didn’t fucking work, did it?” You’re about as surprised at the venom in your voice as Sam appears to be. 

Logically you know that you don’t  _ really _ put all the blame on your dad but anger is a hell of alot easier to deal with than the rest of the emotions creating a constant whirling dervish inside you are.

“It’s settled then.” Dean says as he pushes off the wall to walk over to dig through his duffel bag. “She stays with us.”

“No, Dean, it’s not. Did you forget how this whole discussion started?” Sam asks with exasperation.

Dean’s hands slow as hesitation floods his face. He goes back to digging with a mumbled ‘No’. 

The silence in the room hangs heavy until you can’t stand it anymore.

“Okay, I give...how did the conversation start?” You ask.

Dean shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t take his eyes off what he’s doing. Sam glares at Dean’s back for a few moments before he answers.

“The next step in Dean’s plan is to trap ourselves a crossroads demon to question. We need to see how widespread the information about you is. If it's common knowledge and they all know you were taken then we’re in for a hell of a fight. But if this was just a few low level demons then likely they didn’t want any other demons horning in on their plan and getting credit so you may be in the clear if we’ve already gotten them all.”

“You didn’t.” You say softly, suddenly fascinated by the shape of your hands. “There were at least two more that I remember for sure besides the ones that were there when you broke me out and the one you killed at the motel.”

“Damn.” Dean says quietly before he finally gives up his search and turns to speak directly to you. “Well, we still gotta start with big picture and narrow it down. So, like Sammy was sayin’ we gotta summon ourselves a demon. Thing is, we can’t do it anywhere near you or we risk them figuring out where you are.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster, not really liking the direction this was going in.

“We’re gonna drive a few towns over, put as much distance between you and us as we can while still being able to get back before nightfall.” Sam finishes the explanation.

Knots start forming in your stomach at the idea of being here alone.

“First you and me are going for a ride.” Dean grabs his jacket and keys before heading for the door. “Don’t forget your hex bag!” he shouts over his shoulder as he’s walking out.

You scurry to get your shoes on, wincing slightly at the squeeze against the cut on your foot, before running for the door. You toss a confused look at Sam as you run out the door. Sam responds with a shrug and a sympathetic smile.

Dean’s quiet on the drive, although you get the impression it’s more of a ‘I don’t wanna put my foot in my mouth again’ and less of a ‘I’m annoyed and don’t want to talk’ kind of quiet so you sit in the passenger seat watching out the window. 

It’s a short drive but still you find yourself jarred when you realize you had fallen asleep, the abrupt stop of the car waking you. Blinking a couple of times to clear your eyes you look out the window and are surprised to see yourself surrounded by trees. The shutting of the door startles you out of your fog and you scramble to get out of the car to follow Dean.

You watch silently as he grabs a bag that had the empty beer bottles from the previous day. He walks over to a fallen log about twenty paces into the woods and lines the bottles up. Dean doesn’t say anything as he turns and catches you watching him with a questioning look on your face. 

Instead he walks to the trunk. You maneuver around so that you can see what he’s doing and you watch as he pulls out a handgun. When he clears the gun and starts emptying the loaded magazine into his hand you grow more confused.

“C’mere.” Dean says, more of a grunt than a request, his eyes still on the cartridges piling up in his hand.

When you’re standing next to the back of the car Dean launches into a full explanation of the inner workings of the gun, pointing out the safety, warning you about getting skin caught in the slide, showing you how to load the magazine before inserting it back into the gun and chambering the first round.

“Hey Dean?-”

Dean wraps a large hand gently around your wrist before pulling you around to the front of the car to stand facing the fallen log. You’re pretty sure he heard you but is choosing to ignore in favor of continuing on full steam with what is clearly intended to be a lesson. 

When he presses the gun into your hand and moves to stand behind you with his arms engulfing your own, pressing into your back, you manage to stop yourself from stiffening up even though your body is screaming to go into flight mode.

“So, make sure you get comfortable with the safety, practice ‘til you can turn it on and off without even looking or thinking. I don’t want you runnin’ around without it on but I don’t want you fumbling with it when you need it.”

“Dean-”

Dean presses on pulling your arms up into firing position, hands molding over yours to put them where he wants them on the gun.

“Now you’re gonna look down that little notch there on the top to aim-”

“Dean!” You yell, getting frustrated that he’s determined to ignore you.

“What?” Dean fires back just as loudly as he lets go of your arms and steps to the side to turn and face you, his brow furrowed and his eyes sparking in frustration. “Look, I know this is probably the last thing you wanna think about but if we’re gonna leave you alone you gotta be able to protect yourself. The salt won’t keep  _ everything _ out. I promise it’s not as hard as it looks.”

You go from frustrated to pissed in the time it takes for Dean to stop his explanation. Your eyes narrow down into a glare before you turn away from Dean and face the fallen logs. You raise the gun and fire off six rapid shots, shattering four of the bottles, taking the top off of one and biting into the bark of the log just a hair from the bottom of the sixth bottle. You flick the safety back on before lowering the gun and turning to face a surprised looking Dean.

“Coulda saved a lot of time if you’d just told me what you had in mind. Dad gave me a gun and a membership to a shooting range for my sixteenth birthday. Mom was pissed.” You say with a shrug.

“Oh, well...okay then, let’s get back so Sam and me can hit the road.” Dean says as he turns to head back to the car. You don’t miss the light flush that colors his skin enough to be seen in the shadows of the trees. When you lift the gun to hand it back to Dean he shakes his head. “Keep it, there’s more ammo in the trunk, I’ll grab it when we get back.”

The ride back is mostly quiet. You get the feeling Dean is feeling a little embarrassed about his assumption so you don’t try to fill the silence. Dean swings into a small grocery store and has you pick out food for the rest of the day as well as the morning. You also throw in a couple of six packs of energy drinks. When Dean looks at you concerned you just shrug.

“It’s not even noon yet and I’m already jonesing for a nap. I’d just as soon put off the nightmares a little longer.”

Dean doesn’t say anything about it, nor does he say anything when you knock back an entire can as soon as you get into the car. The silence should be awkward but instead you just feel a sense of understanding and almost a sort of comradery.

When you walk through the motel door a little later Sam is back on his laptop. He looks up at Dean when he moves into view with a raised eyebrow.

“That was fast, how’d it go?”

“Oh I think Annie Oakley will be just fine.” Dean says, aiming for sarcasm but missing when the notes of admiration slips in.

You shrug sheepishly at the look Sam gives you as you set the gun and your copious amount of energy drinks on the nightstand before sitting down on your bed. 

While Dean puts away the groceries you had picked up Sam stands and walks over to you, his laptop in hand.

“Here, I’ve got my Netflix account up. I’ve also got a folder on the desktop with a bunch of digital books if you prefer. Just, do me a favor and no more research, kay? I certainly don’t mind mouth to mouth but I won’t be here if you need it again.” 

Sam’s clearly going for lighthearted humor to make an awkward request less so, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth his face twists with regret. You can feel a flush creep up as you remember the press against your lips as air was forced into you. 

That had all dissipated from your mind as you were too busy focusing on calming down but now it was right there in front of you. Thankfully while you and Sam couldn’t seem to find anything to say Dean was ready to break the tension.

“Dude! You get mad at me for not paying attention to what the damn saleslady picked out while you’re back here making out with her? What the hell?” Dean accuses, although there’s no anger in his voice.

In fact, he seems to enjoy the fact that he’s making his brother squirm. Watching this you can’t stop the giggle that escapes. It surprises all three of you. Sam smiles softly at you while Dean practically beams at the fact that he not only made you smile but even got a laugh, no matter how small. 

Sam hands you his laptop with a shake of his head before turning to glare half heartedly at his brother before heading to the door.

Dean walks over to you, reaching into his pocket as he moves. He pulls out a cell phone and hands it to you.

“This has both mine and Sammy’s number in it as well as a few other hunters you can trust, just in case. If you need anything, if  _ anything _ happens, call. Don’t leave the room and keep the hex bag and the gun with you.” Dean says, eyeing you with concern. “We’ll be back as soon as we can but it won’t be before dark. We need to put some miles between us.”

“I’ll be fine, Dean. I’ve got food, fuel and entertainment. What more can a girl ask for?” You say with a reassuring smile.

As the door closes behind the two of them and you find yourself alone for the first time since your rescue the lie echoes harshly off the walls of your mind. 

You jump up to check the salt lines and throw the deadbolt shut before sitting back on the bed, pressed up against the headboard in an irrational hope that nothing could get you as long as it couldn’t sneak up behind you. You mainline another energy drink before pulling open Sam’s laptop, searching desperately for a distraction. It’s going to be a very long day.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on Tumblr http://spnbrennafae.tumblr.com/
> 
> Also, I appreciate any and all comments, they inspire and motivate me. <3


	6. When Reality Bleeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few words, said without though by the well meaning, can twist reality and dreams into one terrifying existence.

You check the locks and the salt lines at least once an hour. You pick up the gun from the nightstand to make sure it’s still loaded with a bullet in the chamber every half hour. Netflix distracts you enough that you make it through lunch before the pacing starts. You cover every inch of walkable space while mainlining more caffeine.

Two hours of that has your body fighting back as each step becomes slower and heavier. Finally you give up and sit back down on the bed and start going through the file of digital books Sam had mentioned.

Ten chapters in and you couldn’t say what you were reading even if someone tried to torture it out of you. Which would be fine, you’re reading for distraction, not pleasure. But when you feel your head jerk up suddenly and you realize that you’d started to fall asleep a tiny tendril of panic takes root in your belly.

You force your tired legs to stand and you make another pass to check the locks and salt lines. When you check the window the darkness that has creeped up on you only feeds into the panic. Your eyes land on the nightstand and the cell phone sitting on it. You talk yourself out of picking it up and calling Sam and Dean for the umpteenth time but then, even standing and feeling the thread of panic, you feel your eyelids getting heavy so you give in to the impulse.

Sitting down heavily on the bed you pick up the phone and scroll through the limited contacts. You briefly contemplate which to call but you’ve figured that Dean has done all the driving so far so it’s likely that if they’re on the road, then Sam would be the better option. You hit call and wait, your eyelids drooping at even such a short moment of pause. Thankfully you don’t wait long.

“What’s wrong?” The concern in Sam’s voice is palpable, although there’s a touch of sleepiness to it that has you thinking you likely woke him.

“Nothing! I’m okay…” You rush to clarify, guilt at causing them to worry needling at you. “I just…”

“What is it? It’s okay, whatever it is.” Sam’s voice is gentle now and it soothes you.

“I’m tired, Sam. I’m falling asleep and I’m afraid to.”

“No, you should definitely not fall asleep.”

“I know, I’m trying. I drank so much of this nasty energy drink, I feel like I might float away. I’ve tried distracting myself with Netflix, with reading. Fun fact? I can tell you _exactly_ how many steps it takes to cover the entire open floor space of this room. I know, I checked my count five times.”

“We’re on our way, only about a half hour left. Talk to me.” Sam urges.

“About what? I don’t...I don’t really want to talk about that...stuff while I’m here alone.”

“No! No, of course not. Tell me anything. Friends, work, favorite books, movies.”

“Sounds like every blind date I’ve ever been on with the added benefit of not seeing your eyes glaze over after the first ten minutes.” You say with a small laugh.

Sam’s responding laughter settles some of your errant nerves and you settle into easy conversation about entirely unimportant things. Ten minutes in and you hear muffled speaking and realize Sam must have covered the phone to talk to Dean. A few seconds later Sam comes back on.

“Hey, Dean wants me to put the phone on speaker, something about it being irritating only hearing my side.”

The sound over the line changes and you can hear the soft hum of the engine faintly.

“Favorite pie?” Dean’s voice rumbles over the line.

“Huh?” You ask, taken slightly off guard by the abruptness of the question as well as the change in voice.

“Favorite pie?” Dean asks again, a little hesitant like a child that’s just been asked to repeat their answer in class and fearing its because they are wrong. “We’re doing some sort of chick magazine get to know you crap, right?”

You repress the snort that is threatening to break out, not wanting to make Dean feel silly.

“If it comes in a pie form I’m all over that.”

“That’s m’girl.” Dean says and you can practically hear the smile and wink.

Ten more minutes of completely pointless but soothing conversation goes by before the sharpness in Sam’s voice startles you.

“Hey! You still with us?”

“Hmm? Yeah...yeah I am.” You realize with a start that you’d started to drift off and your lack of response was what caused Sam to speak up.

“Okay, we’re almost there, just another ten minutes or so. I’ll have Dean drop me off before he runs out to get dinner since he’s insisting on burgers instead of what we’ve already got in the room.”

“Hey! Might as well save that if we can have hot, fresh, juicy burgers!”

“ _Anyway_ why don’t you hop in the shower. That should keep you awake until I get there.”

“M’kay.” you say sleepily as you slide off the bed.

“Be there soon.” Sam promises before he hangs up.

Gathering up your toiletries and some comfy clothes to sleep in you head to take a shower. When the water starts running cold fifteen minutes later thanks to the crappy motel water heater you’re admittedly more awake and kicking yourself for not thinking of this yourself. You towel off and get dressed before leaving the bathroom.

You repress a small start when you hear a soft tired tapping on the door. Belatedly realizing you forgot to undo the security bolt you rush to check the peephole and make out the edge of Sam’s wavy hair. You open the door quickly enough that Sam falls in a little, clearly having been knocking so long that he resorted to resting against the door.

“I’m so sorry Sam.” You say with a groan.

Sam shakes his head with a sleepy smile before he moves into the room.

“No, it’s good. I didn’t really think of it when I suggested the shower but you were right not to open the bolt, even if it was just oversight.”

Sam stifles a yawn as he sets his backpack down and slips his gun out of his waistband to lay down on the nightstand. He walks over and grabs a beer before sitting down on the bed that you’d been in most of the day.

“So what’ve you been watching, anything good?” He asks, nodding to the laptop on the bed in front of him.

“Umm, don’t laugh, but I was watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” You duck your head to hide the embarrassed flush you feel coming on but not in time to miss Sam’s raised eyebrow.

“Really? Not getting enough of that in real life?” His tone is kind.

“I guess I wanted to watch something where a girl manages to kick ass and take names. Makes it seem a little less impossible that I’ll be able to move on. Granted, she had that whole slayer mojo thing going on and I’m just...me. But I figured it’s worth a try, right?” You look up at Sam as you finish your stilted explanation expecting to see a mocking expression but instead see only an easy smile and understanding eyes.

Sam tilts his head to the empty spot next to him on the bed.

“Well get over here and cue that shit up. I could use to see a little ass kicking myself.”

Grabbing your own beer you settle in next to Sam, close enough for you both to be able to see the screen while still leaving a few inches of space for your comfort.

Ten minutes into the episode and the space has disappeared as Sam has slowly drifted over, his head resting on your shoulder as his breath steadies out indicating his status as fully asleep. You sit there awkwardly debating on what to do for a few seconds before you go back to watching the laptop, leaving Sam where he is.

When Dean walks in the door with bags of delicious smelling food he is greeted by the sight of Sam’s head resting in your lap as he snores softly. You realize a second too late that you’ve started to gently smooth his hair. At Dean’s raised eyebrow you just shrug sheepishly.

“We were watching Buffy and he fell asleep. He’s like a giant puppy dog and he was so tired. I didn’t have the heart to wake him.”

Dean snorts at the mention of Buffy and walks over to the bed, jostling Sam with his knee.

“Wake up Sammy, grubs here!”

Sam wakes with a start. He looks around with sleep addled confusion as he sits up. Once he takes in where he had been his confusion changes to embarrassment as he realizes where he’d just been resting. He mumbles a quiet ‘sorry’ before moving to sit on the other bed. Dean digs his food out of one of the bags to set on the table before handing the bag to Sam. He passes the other one to you.

“I’m going for broke and went in once again not knowing what you wanted so there’s a bunch of condiments in the bag too.”

Dean settles into the chair before pulling his burger out and unwrapping it. You can’t help but watch as he takes a bite and makes a face that would more likely be seen in a porn than at a diner. When Dean hears your soft laugh in response he gives you a big closed mouth smile, his cheeks all puffed out with food.

Shaking your head you open your own bag, the smell of cooked meat and greasy potatoes wafting to your face and making your stomach rumble. You pull out your own burger and add your condiments before taking a large bite.

“So, did you find anything out?” You ask between bites of burger and fries.

“Sorta.” Sam says. “We’re pretty sure the demons that grabbed you were keeping their plan low key. The demon we trapped had no idea what we were talking about and if something like that wasn’t kept tightly under wraps it would have spread around like wildfire.”

“How do you know the demon wasn’t lying?” You ask curiously before taking another bite.

“Oh, by the time we were done with them they were begging us to give up their own mother. No way they were lying” Dean says with a smirk.

The bite of burger in your mouth turns to ash and you have to force yourself to swallow before nodding slightly and looking down at the burger in your hands. The conversation continues but it’s muffled as your mind starts to drift.

It’s not that you fault them for using torture or that the demon didn’t completely deserve it. It just feels like the past is starting to invade what was just beginning to feel like a safe little bubble. You’re still staring at your burger when your brain registers that the direction of the conversation has changed.

“-take turns staying up, just to be safe. Me and Sammy are so used to only getting four hours or so, so this way we’ll still get enough sleep to function.”

“What? Oh...yeah. That should work. Speaking of which, I think the shower is kinda wearing off. I’m gettin’ tired again. I think I’d like to go to sleep.” You say as you subtly avoid meeting their eyes.

“Yeah sure, sounds like a good idea.” Sam says, not entirely convinced.

You pack away the rest of your burger and fries and stash them in the mini fridge before grabbing your toiletry bag and heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth. While behind the closed door you hear quiet talking but refrain from trying to listen at the door.

When you come out Dean’s gone and Sam’s sitting on the other bed against the headboard with his long legs out straight and crossed at the ankles. He’s got his laptop in his lap and a beer in his clasped hands.

“Where’s Dean?”

“He was feeling antsy so he went out to scout around the motel to make sure no demons followed us back and are lurking around.”

Your eyes go wide and the food that had been sitting like a rock in your stomach started to roll in protest.

“Is that...do you think they might have?” You ask softly.

“Naw, he’s just antsy is all.” Sam says looking up from his computer. When he sees the expression on your face he gets an almost pained look on his. “Shit, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have...I should have lead with that. No. There is no way anyone followed us back. We took out the demon and we had hex bags on us the whole time.”

You’re able to take a full deep breath as you nod and smile at Sam to ease his concern. Putting away your bag you slide between the cool sheets and curl up with your back facing the room.

“Goodnight Sam.” You say to the wall.

“Goodnight. Sleep well.” Sam responds, his voice almost forming a prayer, although you aren’t sure if it's to you or some unknown deity.

You focus on steadying your breathing, willing your body and face to go lax. It’s a while before Dean comes back in. He must have flipped the switch for the overhead light because the soft glow through your eyelids goes away.

“She okay?” You hear Dean whisper.

“Not sure, but at least she’s sleeping.” Sam whispers back.

“Speaking of which, move it or lose it. I get first sleep since your ass got to sleep all the way back _and_ all cuddled up to her.”

You listen as the bed springs groan as one body moves and another body settles. You hear the soft thump of boots hitting the carpet and the slide of the kitchen chair against the linoleum. Then the silence is only slightly marred by the soft keystrokes from Sam’s computer and the slow breaths of a sleeping Dean.

You lay there all the way through Dean’s shift and into Sam’s, your body fighting to sleep but your mind afraid to go there. Eventually though your body wins the battle and you drift away.

_Can’t move._

_Can’t breathe._

_Know there’s pain, know that it's there, feel it ripping through your mind even though it doesn’t actually touch your body._

_Hands coming in, can’t see where they’re coming from. Pressing at wounds. Squeezing. Twisting. Probing._

_‘It’s okay, Sam and Dean will be here soon. They’ll save me. I just have to hold on. Just a little bit-”_

_Thoughts become too painful as the hands suddenly have bodies attached...and faces covered in blood, your blood...twisted grins widen as hands use and abuse you. Eyes that had been so kind are dark and hungry._

_“Sam….Dean...” You whimper, the rest of your plea lost._

_Sam leans in, his face disappearing from your vision as his words whisper through your mind._

_“We’re gonna make you beg to tell us, and when you do? We’re gonna keep goin’ cause you’re so pretty when you scream baby.”_

“Sweetheart, c’mon.”

_“Sweetheart I’m gonna take you apart, slice you up, piece by piece.” Dean says before running the tip of his tongue along his lips, tasting the blood there._

“You need...you need to stop. You’re gonna get hurt. Please.”

_“You’re gonna hurt. It’s never gonna stop. Say please all you want, it won’t matter.”  Sam says as he presses a hand against your shoulder and another on your forehead pinning it against…empty space? There’s nothing behind you so what is your head against?_

_Dean is suddenly pressing against your other side, his body pressing into your shoulder with an arm across your waist. His other hand drifts near enough to your mouth that when Sam lets up a little bit on your forehead you are able to inch forward just enough to sink your teeth into his hand, determined to not go quietly this time._

“Fuck!”

_Confusion begins to creep in as the faces before you begin to flicker, one second covered in blood and full of menace, the next clean and creased with concern._

“No, let me go. Please...please stop...not you...please not you…”

_The darkness that surrounds you starts to shift to a warm glow as the bloody faces fade into the clean versions._

Blinking hard you start to come back to yourself and realize you’re pinned to the floor of the motel room, Sam and Dean hovering over you as they press their weight against you. As your breathing and heart rate begin to slow you flick your tongue out to wet your parched lips and taste blood there. Suddenly you need them to not be touching you like you need air.

“Get off me!” You yell, your voice sharp and strong. “I’m awake damn it!”

Sam and Dean wear matching startled looks as they release you immediately, backing up to give you room. You quickly get to your feet, ignoring the bruised muscles that are screaming for attention.

“It was...it was you. You were...you were...hurting me and…” You stutter out before stopping entirely when the tight squeeze returns to your chest.

The scene before you finally starts to sink in; Sam and Dean on their knees looking up at you, confusion in Sam’s eyes and a flash of what looks like hurt in Dean’s before they go blank, blood dripping from Dean’s hand that’s coming from a ragged bite mark that you know you put there.

This is just too fucking much.

You spin around and dash to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind you. Grasping the edge of the counter you put your weight on your arms as you lean forward and fight to center yourself. Looking up at the mirror you feel disgust at what you see. So weak. So dependent. The face is a stranger. Someone who does things, who lets things happen to them and doesn’t even know it. Someone who is entirely dependent on the word of people who she doesn’t even know, not really. So weak...so very weak.

Before you have a chance to think you let the counter go with one hand and slam your fist into the mirror, shattering the pathetic visage. The pain that shoots through you shakes at the small shelter of centering that you’d been trying to build.

The blood that starts to snake down your skin blows it away altogether as you remember the feeling of blood slick all over your body. Then there’s nothing left but numbness. You know you need to do something about your hand, about the shards of glass littering the ground and counter. You’re aware of the voices calling from the other side of the door, the pounding against the wood.

Moving without really thinking you turn to twist the lock and barely manage to avoid glass in your foot as you step back to get out of the way of the door swinging inward.

“I...I...I didn’t mean to…” You say to the two very concerned hunters standing on the other side as you stare at the bloody hand you’re holding up.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean swears before wrapping a gentle but firm hand around your wrist.

He moves your hand under the faucet and turns the water on as Sam disappears from behind him. The water flushes away blood and tiny shards of loose glass. As fresh blood flows to the surface Dean carefully plucks the two pieces of glass that are still embedded from your skin.

Without preamble Dean releases your hand and wraps his hands around your waist. You tense up but he just lifts you over the glass on the floor and carries you to the bed where he sets you down on the edge. Sam is right next to you with first aid supplies as soon as you land on the bed. He checks once more for any glass before laying gauze across your seeping knuckles and wrapping your hand with a pressure bandage, pulling tightly.

Meanwhile Dean is pacing back and forth in front of you, his hand rubbing furiously at the back of his neck, a sign you’ve come to associate with frustration and helplessness. He keeps glancing at your hand as Sam works.

As soon as Sam clips the bandage in place Dean is on his knees in front of you, close enough to make not looking at him awkward but careful enough to ensure no part of him touches you.

“What happened? You gotta tell us. We can’t help if you won’t tell us.” Dean says, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

Sam moves quietly to put away the supplies, his eyes still on you as they both wait for answers. You look down at your hand and nervously poke at the bandage before you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“My dreams. They started to blend with reality. It...it was hard to know when I was out. But that isn’t the issue. Yes I was terrified but...I’m so _angry_ . I’m doing things, things are being done to me and I’m completely unaware. If you didn’t tell me what happened I’d have no idea. I _hate_ that so much, the not knowing.”

“Well the shifts seem to be working. You didn’t make it out the room this time. Plus you slept for a while, right? Better than last night?” Dean asks with an optimism that almost seems alien coming from him for some reason.

When you don’t answer right away and instead go back to picking at the bandage you hear Sam clear his throat.

“How much sleep _did_ you get?” Sam asks.

Looking up at Sam you see his eyes narrowing down at you, reading your face. Guilt tugs at you when you find yourself caught in the same deception as before.

“I don’t know, how far into your turn to sleep were you?” You ask Sam.

“Seriously?” Dean practically erupts from his place on the floor. “You don’t have to lie to us you know.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize softly “I _want_ to sleep, I do. I just can’t seem to make myself do it on purpose. I basically just wait til I can’t fight it anymore.”

“We could get you sleeping pills.” Dean suggests.

You feel a flutter of panic in your chest as you shake your head frantically. The idea of having the dreams but not being able to escape because you’re being forced to stay asleep by the pills is terrifying.

“Okay, no pills. But how about trying to get some more sleep now?” Sam asks. “It’s still pretty early.”

You debate internally but you’re decision is made when you notice the tired slump of Sam’s shoulders.

“I will if you will.” you say with a weak grin.

“Deal,” Sam says, smiling gratefully.

This time you don’t try to pretend. Evidently what little sleep you got was enough to take the edge off and keeps you from passing out. You toss and turn for a couple of hours as Sam lays in the bed next to you and Dean watches something on the laptop. Judging by the fact that every once in awhile you catch Sam looking in your direction he’s as unsuccessful as you are at getting back to sleep.

At around seven o’clock you jump when Dean slams the laptop shut, the sudden noise echoing in the quiet.

“Okay, I’ve had enough of watching the two of you squirm around waiting for the other to fall asleep so you can stop trying. Get up, get dressed. We’re gonna take a trip over to the diner I got the burgers from. They have pie themed pancakes and I’m hungry.”

Thirty minutes later you find yourself sitting in front of a plate stacked with pumpkin pancakes drenched in sugar and pie spice syrup with a mound of whipped cream as big as the stack itself. Sam was going to order some sort of veggie omelette but when Dean glared daggers at him he settled on the apple pie pancakes, which was a stack of vanilla bean pancakes topped with fried apples and whipped cream.

Dean is practically drooling over the plate in front of him. Sam had looked at you uncomfortably as Dean proceeded to flirt with the waitress, loading his statement of how much he loved cherry pie with as much innuendo as possible but you’d just enjoyed seeing Dean in a more relaxed state. As much as you appreciated them trying to be considerate and even needed it to a certain extent, watching them walking on eggshells around you was exhausting.

Dean picks up his fork and knife and cuts into the stack of cherry studded pancakes drizzled in sweet cherry syrup and sprinkled with bits of pie crust that had been fried and dusted with sugar. He looks longingly at the whipped cream on your stack as you cut into it. He’d pouted a little when his had come with the pastry crumble instead of the whipped cream but he’d adamantly refused Sam’s suggestion that he just ask for some.

He looks so funny lusting after your whipped cream that you have no choice but to tease him. You scoop up a huge bite that is mostly whipped cream and shove it into your move before moaning loudly and letting your eyes roll back into your head.

“My god, this whipped cream is so good.” You say, your words muffled by the the mouthful of creamy dairy.

“Oh hey, you got a little something...lemmie get that for you.” Dean says as he pushes up a little from his seat and reaches toward you. When he moves like he’s going to wipe whipped cream off your face you’re surprised. So you aren’t quick enough to respond when his hand makes a quick detour to scoop up some of the whipped cream from your pancakes and wipes a streak of it from your cheek down and across your mouth before he sits back and happily cleans the rest of it from his finger with his mouth.

The cocky expression fades when he sees your eyes narrow down. Sam interprets your expression a hair faster than Dean so he’s able to slide away to avoid any splash from the scoop of whipped cream you fling from your fork across the table to smack wetly across Dean’s face.

Ten minutes later finds your trio sitting in the Impala with the take out boxes that the waitress had tossed at you, a not so subtle suggestion that you should settle your bill and get out. The three of you laugh as you dig into your pancakes, forgetting the stress of the night for a little while.

On the way back to the motel you’re passing through the storefront area of the small town when Dean suddenly pulls into a parking spot in front of the shops. You watch in confusion as something wordless passes between the brothers before Sam hops out and walks into a store called Baby Boutique. Dean sits there silently watching the storefront and you decide to just wait it out.

You don’t have long to wait since evidently Sam knows exactly what he’s looking for and he’s out of the store carrying a bag before you know it. When he slides into his seat he turns around and hands the bag back to you.

“It’s not a solution but at least you don’t have to rely on us to tell you what happens if you sleepwalk again.” Sam says, his eyes belying his nervousness as he waits for your response.

You catch Dean watching you from the mirror before he goes back to looking at his hands. Opening the bag you see an expensive looking nanny camera. You can’t helped but be touched by their need to fix things for you. You wish it was that easy. But while this doesn’t _fix_ things, it goes a long way to making them more tolerable.

“Thank you. This...this is perfect.” you say softly.

You catch a glimpse of Dean in the mirror, the corners of his mouth curling up into a soft smile, before he starts the car back up and heads back to the motel. Sam settles back into his seat and you can see a noticeable difference in the lines of their shoulders, some of the tension slipping away.

When you get back to the hotel you go to open the camera up, anxious to set it up and see how it works.

“Don’t set that up unless you’re gonna try and sleep now, we won’t be here tonight.” Dean says.

“Oh, where are we going?” You ask curiously as you stash the bag with your duffle.

Another glance between the brothers has the nerves in your stomach jumping to attention.

“We’ve got a plan. It’s not a _great_ plan and neither of us is too happy with it but it’s the best we’ve got.” Dean looks over at Sam as he speaks and the way Sam ducks his head tells you all you need to to know about who came up with it.

“Since it seems likely that it’s just the last couple of demons that were at the warehouse that know about you we figure that they won’t put out the word to look for you specifically. Instead they’re probably gonna try and find you through us. So the plan is to go back to what we normally do. We’re gonna look for jobs to work. We won’t use hex bags when we finish the job. As soon as we finish we’ll move on. When we’re ready to take them out we’ll have to get rid of yours too so that we know they’ll come. They won’t show if they think we have you stashed somewhere else.”

Dean is quiet as Sam explains the plan and you know he isn’t thrilled about it but you figure since he was the one that insisted on keeping you with them that he didn’t really have a good argument against it.

“This plan of yours, it starts today?”

“There’s an easy salt ‘n burn a town over that I found this morning while you guys were playing waste the beds.” Dean says nodding.

“Salt and burn?” you ask curiously.

“Yeah, it’s just a the spirit of someone that hasn’t moved on. We stop them by dousing their bones in salt before burning them. This one will be quick, I know exactly who it is and where their bones are buried. We’ll have to do it during daylight hours but it’s a private plot on an empty property so we should be good.” Dean explains.

You nod silently and settle back on the bed with the laptop as the boys gather up everything to pack the car, leaving you with food, your gun and the laptop to entertain you while they’re gone. They both balked at your suggestion of going with them so you let it drop with the intention of bringing it back up later in the interest of saving travel time.

They head out within the hour and you are left with Netflix and your thoughts. You aren’t crazy about the idea of intentionally drawing the demons to you but the alternative of forever being in fear of them is worse.

Besides, the guys are clearly good at what they do. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think about the pacing of the story.
> 
> Also come find me at http://spnbrennafae.tumblr.com/


	7. Tattoos and Doctors, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New hurdles, new tests of your fragile mind and one heck of a surprising solution.

It’s just past three when you get a text from Dean letting you know they’re on their way back and once they’ve had a chance to clean up it’ll be time to hit the road. So you spend the time waiting for them packing up. You’ve just finished going through and bagging up the food that’s left when you hear the low rumble of the car pulling up.

If you were a more prideful person you would find something to occupy yourself with to make it look like you were definitely  _ not _ waiting anxiously for them to return. You, however, have no pride and you’ve been going even more stir crazy than usual so the second you hear the engine cut out you’re at the door flinging it open as you practically bounce on the balls of your feet.

Sam and Dean emerge from the car looking sweaty and very dirty. Your brain makes the link it hadn’t made before and you realize they’ve spent the day digging up a grave. You don’t miss the concerned look that passes between them when they see you practically buzzing with nervous energy as you wait at the door.

You step aside to let them pass and close the door behind them. They divest themselves of their filthy outer layers and you let the strange silence continue as long as you can before you finally break.

“Did everything go okay?” You ask, forcing yourself not to start babbling or pacing.

“Yeah, went fine. Like I said, it was simple.” Dean says as he glances at you, his eyes unreadable.

You sit down on your bed, slightly puzzled by the change in demeanor. As you glance between the two brothers Dean pulls a flask out of his jacket and takes a swig before handing it to you. Confused, you accept the flask and take a small sip. Your confusion only grows.

“Water?” You ask, handing the flask back to Dean.

It’s impossible to miss when shuttered faces slip into more relaxed relief.

“Holy water, actually. It occurred to us when you met us at the door that we may have been a little...lax in impressing onto you the importance of staying in the room. Since we’ve appeared to shake them and you know the hex bag should hide you from them you may not have thought twice about going out for a walk or even just to the vending machines. I shouldn’t be surprised that you might be feeling a little stir crazy judging by the fact that you looked about ready to crawl out of your own skin when we got here.” Sam said.

You almost laugh when Sam suggests you might leave the room alone. Then you realize he’s completely serious and you figure out you’ve been better at hiding your fear than you thought, nightmares aside.

“Guys I’m not stupid. You couldn’t pry me from this room with a crowbar by myself.” You say, almost feeling insulted.

“What about answering the door for the manager? What if the fire alarms go off? What if there’s actually a fire.” Dean pauses as he steels himself and you know he’s going in for the kill. “What if you hear someone crying and you look out the window and there’s a little girl lying in the parking lot bleeding? I may not have known you long but you aren’t the kinda person that’s gonna be able to ignore that.”

Your stomach turns at the implication that demons could use such tactics to lure you out and you hadn’t even considered it. Something is still puzzling you though.

“I still don’t understand why you wanted me to drink the holy water.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably on his feet before shooting a look at Sam and moving to grab a beer from the bags of food you’d packed up earlier. Sam returns the look with one that reads a whole lot like ‘Thanks, Jerk’ before he turns back to you.

“We don’t have a whole lot of weaknesses. For the most part we’re it. So when there’s a new weakness brought to the table it wouldn’t be that out there for a demon to try and kill two birds with one stone by using you to get to us before locking you back up. We had to...we had to make sure you weren’t possessed.”

The wave of dizziness that rolls over you has you landing on the edge of the bed as your legs give out. You know how the demons worked, that they possess people to be able to walk around flesh and blood. 

It had never occurred to you until now that they might choose to possess you. The thought that they could invade you further than they already had seemed impossible until just now. Then something worse occurs to you, something you should have considered well before now and it’s all you can do to keep what’s left from your lunch down.

“So...so that means they could use  _ you _ ?” You ask in almost a whisper.

When Sam moves in quickly, in theory to reassure, you can’t help but flinch back and even a quick glance to the salt lines to confirm they are still intact isn’t enough to still the tremor. Sam responds immediately to your reaction and drops down to kneel in front of you out of reach instead of sitting next to you.

“No, they can’t. We took precautions against that awhile ago.” Sam says as his hand moves to the buttons on his shirt.

You shift uncomfortably as he unbuttons the top few before pulling it to the side to show you a tattoo of a star circled in flames. Sam turns to look at Dean and you follow his gaze. Dean does nothing for a few beats before he grasps the collar of his t-shirt and yanks it down while looking away, obviously uncomfortable. You see a matching tattoo.

“So, ah. That brings me to the point of this conversation.” Sam pauses for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before continuing on. “How do you feel about tattoos?”

And that’s how you find yourself several towns away lying stretched out on a padded table, topless, surrounded by three men and trying desperately not to panic. Thankfully you’re lying on your stomach which provides you with some modesty and the tattoo artist has draped you in a sheet that covers your back and most of your sides at Sam’s request. Dean had suggested he and Sam wait in the front of the shop to give you a little more privacy but you had panicked immediately so they stayed

It had taken a while to decide on the best placement. Dean explained that it was best to put it somewhere that wasn’t usually exposed to make it less likely for a demon to spot it and remove it. You didn’t ask how, you really didn’t want to know. 

The next consideration was the pain. Obviously it needed to be in as painless a spot as possible, though pain was inevitable, but too much might be more than you could handle mentally. 

Finally, your own mental requirement was to have it in the least intimate spot possible, the idea of anyone touching you anywhere that may have at one time brought you pleasure instead made you want to physically curl in on yourself. For the time being though you chose to push back those thoughts and what they meant for your future. 

All that taken into consideration is how you ended up choosing your back, just above your shoulder blade but far enough from the spine to make it less painful.

Your arms are bent in such a way that your hands are up near your head. You take a deep breath and try to force yourself to relax just before the needle hits your skin. It doesn’t work. With the first sharp scraping of the needle memories start to flash through your mind. As the pain builds on itself you squeeze your eyes shut to try and stem the tide of tears.

Somewhere in your mind you feel a pain separate from the one on your back. It’s coming from your palms. Four distinct pricks of pain on each. Soon its joined by the feeling of wetness. Before you manage to force yourself to open your eyes to see what it is you feel strong fingers prying open your right hand to slide in and clasp with yours. Moments later the same happens with your left. 

You manage to release the clench of your jaw and the squeeze of your eyes just long enough to see Sam sitting to the left of you, his large hand gripped tightly by yours. You do your best to ignore the smear of blood that explains the wetness. His other hand is in his lap so you know the other hand must be Dean’s.

The artist had stopped briefly, you assume at some silent signal from one of the boys to allow them time to position, but the needle is back on your skin and everything tenses up again as you force down the sob threatening to break through. 

You mentally berate yourself. This is nothing compared to what you’ve experienced. A part of you knows that it’s less about the pain and more about the memories. Still, you’re about to break and beg for them to stop but then you feel a hand brushing across your hair in a comforting manner and hear whispers of encouragement and support from two different voices. 

The caresses seep into you and slowly the muscles in your body begin to relax as you let the voices roll over you and soothe you. A small voice in the back of your mind wonders why the unexpected touch doesn’t make you jump out of your skin but it’s quickly pulled under with the current of ease.

You manage to find some sort of strange balance between the sting of the needle and the gentle touches. The buzzing of the machine blends with the soft assurances. The artist works clean and efficient and finishes in just under an hour. 

You listen as best as you can to the aftercare instructions but your brain is a jumbled mess of pain induced endorphins and pure exhaustion.

The drive to the motel that Sam had found when he was looking online for a tattoo shop goes by in a blur. Thankfully you’d eaten take out on the way to the shop because you doubt very much you’d be able to force anything down. Besides the water that Sam has been guilting you into drinking with those damn puppy dog eyes of course.

When you stumble into the motel room you flop down on the bed as Sam and Dean settle in and make the necessary precautions. You tell yourself you’re just resting your eyes for a moment before you get up to get ready for bed and set up the camera. 

You tell yourself that right up until the pure exhaustion consumes you and pulls you under.

_ Sand paper rubs and tears at your already abused skin. _

_ Laughter mixes with the loud buzzing of bees, swirling around you and into you. _

_ With everything they’ve already done to you this should be nothing but it burns so much. _

_ “Please, God. Please stop.” _

_ “There’s no god here darling. Just us.” _

_ Black eyes move in and out of your vision. _

_ Pressure on your arms and legs confuses you. _

_ The pain starts to coalesce and focus on your back. _

_ Bees and laughter begin to blend and twist with soft deep voices. _

Blinking your eyes open you find yourself once again pressed to the floor hands pressing your shoulders and arms down, long legs wrapped around yours from either side. As the tension leaves you, you become acutely aware of the burning pain that is lighting up your shoulder as your fresh tattoo is pressed into the rough texture of the cheap carpet. Unfortunately the thin material of your t-shirt does little to protect it.

The second the boys realize you’ve stopped struggling Dean is on his feet and out the door, a strange hitch in his gait. You aren’t able to catch a look at his face in your sleep slowed state so instead you turn to Sam for an explanation. 

The small grin on his face as he scoots away to give you room to sit up both confuses you and lightens the vice that’s squeezing your lungs.

“You were kicking this time too. It’s why we had to pin your legs. Dean was just a little slow and you nailed him pretty good. He might be walking funny for a few days.” Sam says doing his best to hide the amusement and failing.

“Oh.” Is all you can bring yourself to say as color floods your cheeks.

Belatedly you remember that you never set up the camera before you passed out. Scrambling to your feet you snatch up your duffle bag and start to dig through it. Sam gets a up a little slower and as you notice the dragging movement you turn to look a little closer and note the fatigued slump of his shoulders and the deepening circles under his eyes.

“If you’re looking for the camera I set it up right after you fell asleep.” Sam says, indicating the camera that was precariously perched on a curtain rod and angled so as to get the entire room in one frame. “There’s a shortcut for the camera feed on the desktop.”

You move to the table that Sam’s laptop is sitting on, open and on. Someone must have been using it and been interrupted as there is a window with a few open tabs that look like different news articles. You minimize the window and look for the shortcut. You’re just clicking on it when the door opens and Dean walks in. You look over your shoulder, ready to offer an awkward apology but the way he avoids eye contact telegraphs his desire to not discuss the matter in any way so instead you return your attention to the camera software that has opened.

You find the tool for playback and select it and the screen is filled with a recording of the room you’re currently occupying. The frame only shows you laying on your bed and the door to the bathroom until Sam moves in, obscuring the picture as he adjusts the angle. When he steps away again the full room is now in view just short of the exit.

Exploring the different tools you find one to play at quadruple speed. You watch as Sam pulls your shoes off before lifting you gently, the fact that he did so without waking you coming as a bit of a shock, so that Dean could pull back the blankets. Sam settles you back on the bed and Dean covers you. You chance a glance at the two men, whose body language shows that they had been watching you before looking away, awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

You watch as the clock speeds along, Sam and Dean settling in, Sam taking the bed and Dean sitting at the table to use that laptop. For the next hour and twenty minutes of footage you see nothing more than Dean getting up to get another beer each time he finishes one off. Once in a while Sam will shift in his sleep but you don’t budge an inch...until you do.

It’s subtle at first but still, the first time your head twitches from side to side it startles you. You click the button to slow the speed down to just double and watch as you shift a couple more times. Then its as if someone has unleashed a hurricane into the room. Blankets and limbs thrash wildly before you’re flying out of the bed.

Dean’s out of his chair first and you can only assume that he calls to Sam because a very groggy Sam is also suddenly on his feet. They start with just grabbing onto your arms, shaking with you with mouths moving frantically. As you watch yourself continue to struggle you can feel the throb in your shoulder as you watch it twist, nearly dislocating in Dean’s grip, before they have you on the ground.

Sam’s already stretched along your side but Dean’s still crouching beside you. He lets up with one hand and looks like he’s reaching for the blanket that had ended up wadded up at the end of your bed and that’s when your legs start thrashing. You wince as you see your foot connect solidly with Dean’s groin before he doubles over, just for a moment. Then they’re both on you, using the full lengths their bodies to press you into the floor. Moments later you see your eyes opening and then Dean’s up and gone. 

You rewind just a little and watch at normal speed. Back to the part where you’re on the ground and Sam and Dean are moving to practically blanket you. Something about the way they’re moving seems strange. They’re tense, but not in a natural way. 

Suddenly the realization hits you. They’re both strong and skilled. Sure, they had mentioned how crazy strong you were when you were sleepwalking but still, either one of them could likely take you down and keep you down with little harm to themselves. But the same wouldn’t be said for you. Every move they make is a careful calculation to find a balance between force of strength and not hurting you.

Thinking back you consider the injuries you’d sustained when they restrained you. Most had been caused by your actions. Some were unavoidable, like the twinge in your shoulder that will likely be there for a day or two. 

Watching at normal speed you also notice something else that you’d chalked up to struggle before. You rewind again and watch as Dean, after receiving the injury to his groin, slips a hand between the back of your head and the floor while still pinning you with his free hand. 

You watch as your head thrashes, likely crushing his hand between the unyielding floor and your hard skull. It occurs to you that he was probably reaching for the blanket to use as a pillow but since he didn’t get it he chose to allow his hand to be abused to protect your head.

You click to close the program and then shut the laptop. Turning in the chair you see Sam and Dean both watching and waiting. It’s Sam that finally breaks the silence.

“So? Did it help?”

You poke and prod at the jumble of thoughts and emotions to try and find the answer to his question. You pointedly push away the confusing mess that is watching them protect you so carefully, almost tenderly. 

The sickness in your gut from watching yourself move without having any memory of doing so is the first thing that really grabs your attention but it’s quickly eased by the fact that regardless you still know what happened, saw with your own eyes instead of relying on someone else to tell you. You start to nod slowly before you speak.

“Yeah, I think it did. I mean, this still sucks and if I’m ever out from under this crap the first thing I’m gonna do is see a shrink so that  _ maybe _ I can manage a full night of sleep. But I think I feel a little calmer than I have before.” You say.

The silence falls again for a moment. Then Dean nods, as if making a decision.

“Right, good. Sounds like you might be able to get some more sleep so hop on into bed. You too Sammy. I think I’ve got a case but it’s a bit further than we originally hoped for so we gotta hit the road early.” Dean says as he gives a gently shove against Sam’s shoulder.

Sam brushes Dean’s hand away with a shake of his head.

“Naw, Dean you go ahead. I’m pretty wide awake at this point.” Sam says as he moves to the table to open up the laptop.

Dean shrugs and doesn’t hesitate to kick off his boots before crawling into bed fully dressed. You’re slightly less enthusiastic about it and have half a mind to suggest that Sam sleep now too since you doubt you’ll be sleeping but you know that won’t go over well. 

Instead you dig out pajama pants and head to the bathroom to change into the more comfortable clothes in hopes that it will help you fall back asleep.

An hour later has you laying in bed staring at the ceiling that is just barely lit up by the light of the laptop as you listen to Dean’s deep breathing from the next bed. Even though you feel better knowing you’ll see what happens when you sleepwalk the nightmares themselves still plague your mind and keep you awake.

You don’t bother trying to fool Sam and it’s at this time that he takes pity on you. You lift your head up to watch as he he grabs the laptop and walks over to the bed. You smile gratefully as you scoot over to make room. After Sam settles next to you he hands you one of the earbuds and keeps the other for himself. He points silently at the screen which is open to Netflix and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he wants you to pick something to watch. 

Scrolling through the Because You Watched this catagories your eyes catch on Doctor Who. When you point to that Sam shrugs and you have to repress the urge to sputter indignantly when you realize he’s indicating he hasn’t seen it before. Deciding this needs to be rectified you pull up the first season of modern Who and start episode one.

You pointedly ignore the grin Sam shoots your way as you start bobbing your head along to the familiar intro music, although you do stop short of humming along. You make no excuses for your love of everything Who. You’ll admit to the fact that you are definitely leaning forward in anticipation as Rose becomes more cornered by the mobile mannequins but you’ll deny to your grave that you actually squeak when Nine grabs her hand and says “Run.” 

It absolutely  _ must _ have been something else that woke Dean. 

Sam laughs softly, although you don’t know if it’s at your reaction or Dean’s grumbling. As Rose and Nine run from their pursuers you can feel Dean watching. You smother a grin as you catch him craning his head to try and see the screen. It’s only as few more moments before he’s crawling out of bed to walk around to the far side of your bed.

“Move over.” Dean says gruffly.

You nudge Sam and the two of you scootch over to make room. It’s a tight fit but when trying to share a single laptop amongst three people it’s to be expected. Sam unplugs the headphones and you restart the episode from the beginning, the three of you settle in to watch.

The first time Dean starts to pick apart something on the show the glare you level him has him shutting up mid sentence with a mildly surprised look on his face. He reserves his criticisms for his own internal monologue but you don’t fail to see that he’s just as wrapped up in the story as you and Sam are. It’s not til the curtains start to glow with the light of the rising sun that any of you even notice the passage of time.

Dean cuts off the binge and insists it’s time to head out since you’re all awake. The guys had showered last night after you’d gone to bed so they let you have the hot water this morning. You clean your fresh tattoo as gingerly as you can. Unfortunately after you’ve finished you try and apply the cream that you’d been instructed to apply regularly and find that you aren’t able to get the entire tattoo. Begrudgingly you dress in everything short of your t-shirt before wrapping your chest in a towel and stick your head out of the door.

“Umm hey, small problem. I can’t quite reach to put this stuff on.” You say awkwardly to the room in general.

Thankfully Sam doesn’t even hesitate to come over, hand outstretched to reach for the tube of cream in your hands. You turn around and Sam gently smooths the cream on your tender skin and you’re pleased to note that the touch doesn’t immediately have you recoiling.

Once that’s done it takes less than twenty minutes for the three of you to finish getting ready and packed up in the car. Dean drives straight through the day, only stopping for drive thru and bathroom breaks. It’s a long drive but surprisingly not too painful between singing along to Dean’s classic music collection, talking about mundane things like favorite tv series and movies, and observing the amusing banter between the brothers.

It’s just about an hour after eating dinner in that you finally reach the town Dean had found a case in. It’s too late to start in on the investigation so Dean finds a motel and you settle in for the evening. It takes three days for them to close up this case. You don’t ask for details, you just know it’s something that’s attacking early riser joggers.

While Sam and Dean may have an interesting few days yours is pretty much wash, rinse, repeat. The days are spent binging Netflix, reading some of the more innocuous lore that Sam points out on his computer and a whole lot of pacing. The only thing that keeps you from going completely stir crazy is that each day Sam or Dean makes sure to take you out of the motel, either for a meal or just for a walk.

Evenings also pass almost exactly the same. Sam and Dean come back and everyone does their own night time routine. You and one of the brothers crash until you’re nightmares find you pinned to the ground, someone always sporting some fresh minor injury. A weak attempt is made to go back to sleep and when that fails the three of you crowd onto a bed to watch more Doctor Who until Sam and Dean head off to stake out the early morning crowd at the park.

On the third day you’re surprised when you hear the low rumble of the car pulling up just before lunch. You manage to restrain yourself long enough for them to come in, dirty and a little worse for wear but mostly intact, but moments after the door closes you’re on your feet, practically bouncing with excitement over not spending the whole day cooped up alone. 

Granted you end up stuck in the room, eating food that they brought back with them for lunch and ordering pizza for dinner so that Sam and Dean can take turns with the laptop looking for the next case but you aren’t alone.

Both Sam and Dean make an attempt to convince you to nap but when you point out how exhausted they look and that they should also probably consider a nap they clam right up. If they’re gonna be up pushing themselves to find the next case to further their plan to help you then the least you can do is stay up. Plus it’s hard enough to sleep with just one of them awake, but with both of them awake and likely moving about the room it’s even more unlikely.

All the same when you find yourself dozing sitting up as you watch crappy late night cable on the small motel tv with the boys still going strong in their research having found no new case you know you’re fighting a losing battle. You feel pretty bad because if tonight is true to form you know that there will only be at most a couple of hours once you lay down for one of them to sleep before you’re awake again for the night but they both wave off the suggestion that they give up on the search for tonight.

You’d been taking your shower in the morning since the boys had to leave pretty early to ensure that they would have plenty of hot water when they got back so all you have to do is change and brush your teeth. Once you’re settled into bed it’s not long before the murmured voices of Dean and Sam lull you to sleep

_ Thick ropes twist around your body pulling tighter and tighter as they drag across your skin. _

_ “We’ve caught her now. Put her on the table.” _

_ You thrash and pull but the ropes are cutting into your skin as rough hands grip you to move you to the hard table, each finger biting into your skin. _

_ But that isn’t right… _

_ The table should be hard and cold. This isn’t. It’s soft and warm and so inviting. The ropes are unraveling and unspinning, smoothing out and covering your naked flesh. Hands that hurt turn into pressure that blankets your body, pressure that should probably scare you but only brings you peace. _

_ You find yourself drifting back into the soothing blackness of oblivion. Just before it consumes you, you swear you hear words of comfort whispered in voices that are very familiar to you. _

You have to blink a lot as you open your eyes to bright light. Sam or Dean must have turned the overhead light on. Something is off though, the light isn’t the soft yellow glow that you expect and it also feels more concentrated from one side, instead of coming from above. As you slowly come back to consciousness you become aware of two things; the first being that the light is coming from the window where the curtains are slightly open, the second is that the blanket feels a lot heavier than you remember it being and the weight is not evenly dispersed like you would expect.

Turning your head just slightly to the left, doing your best to keep the rest of your body still, you find yourself staring into hazel eyes.

“Hey,” Sam whispers softly.

As everything comes into sharp focus as you realize your blanket is actually a mix of limbs and you’re laying in bed sandwiched between two Winchesters; there’s really only one thing to say.

“Oh shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked really hard and I couldn't find anything to indicate that Sam may already watch Doctor Who so I went with. I apologize if I'm incorrect in that.
> 
> Your comments are my life blood!
> 
> Come see me over at http://spnbrennafae.tumblr.com


	8. Alls Fair in Sleep and Donuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up to a somewhat awkward situation puts you in the scary position of trying to figure out how best Not to undo the baby steps everyone has made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short, content light chapter. I'm still working on what comes next, it's just taking me a bit longer to organize my thoughts.

The only word to describe what happens after you speak is slapstick. Sam practically falls onto the floor as he tries to put distance between himself and you. This in turn wakes Dean who looks around almost as confused as you felt when you first woke. Then he actually does fall as he rolls away and misjudges how close to the edge of the bed he is.

His graceful struggle to his feet would probably have you in tears if you weren’t so damn confused by what was going on.

So naturally you do the first thing that comes to mind; scramble off the end of the bed to avoid the both of them and bolt for the bathroom. Once the door’s closed and the lock turned you pause to breathe and let your sleep addled mind process. And huh? That’s new. It’s not the usual confusion of being forced from your sleep. It’s the bone deep fuzziness that comes from your body and mind having become accustomed to its unconscious state over a long,  _ or normal really _ , period of time.

Further analysis of your thoughts and emotions provide clarity to your actions. Your flight to the bathroom wasn’t caused so much by fear of having woken up essentially being held down, it was more the embarrassment of finding yourself in bed with two men and zero recollection of how you got there. If you didn’t know you hadn’t been drinking the night before you’d swear you must’ve gone on one hell of a bender.

You do everything you can think of to stall, using the toilet, brushing your hair and teeth, putting on deodorant. If you’d brought clothes in with you then you would have taken a shower and given yourself a glorious amount of time to avoid the inevitable. Instead you run out of things to do and grab the doorknob, taking a moment for a fortifying breath before you swing the door open.

Dean’s sitting on the unused, still made bed looking intently at the floor. Sam’s sitting at the table with his laptop open. When he sees you come out he jumps quickly to his feet, moving to the side in clear indication that you should take the seat. As you awkwardly make your way across the room, you avoid eye contact entirely. Settling into the seat you see that Sam has the nanny cam footage from last night queued up. You start it from the point where you first laid down while Sam does his best to explain. Dean remains silent.

“It was business as usual, hour and a half in almost to the second. I’d finally convinced Dean to try and get some sleep since he won’t let me drive and I didn’t want us to all die in a car crash. He’d just sat down on the bed to go to sleep when you started moving.” Sam pauses to take a breath or collect his thoughts, you aren’t sure which.

You watch the screen intently where the images mirror Sam’s words.

“Since Dean was right there he was able to get to you before you got out of bed. You still almost managed to shake him but between the two of us we were able to keep you there. Then we just..” Sam paused, looking for the right words. “... kinda waited? We expected you to wake up and when you didn’t, when you sorta settled back down we didn’t know what to do. You’ve never just...stopped before. We were afraid maybe you were getting... crafty? in your sleep and if we let you go, you’d bolt. I guess while we were trying to make up our minds we fell asleep ourselves.

Glancing away from the screen for a moment you noted as Sam finished that he looked sheepish and Dean was still refusing to look up. Clearly while they have practice surviving on little to no sleep the whole accidentally-falling-asleep thing was a blow to their professional pride. Turning back to the laptop you watch the now sleeping figures. Every time you would so much as twitch you can see the brothers instinctively tighten their grasps until the three of you would slowly relax, always starting with you.

You stop the video as soon as it gets to the point where you bolt for the bathroom. It’s one thing to watch yourself but watching when you aren’t in the room with them just feels like spying.

“I think maybe not getting out of bed let your body stay in sleep mode. Like if you wake up in the middle of the night it’s easier to fall back asleep if you just roll over as opposed to if you have to get up and use the bathroom. Your brain didn’t have enough time to fully wake up.” Sam says, having the fortitude to at least look at you as he spoke, something Dean has yet to do.

You’re beginning to wonder exactly how awful it’d been for Dean to be forced into that situation.

“Oh” was all you could manage at first. Clearing your throat you continue weakly, “That makes sense I guess.”

“It’s a good place to start at least!” Sam continues on, bolstered by your response. “I mean, you must feel a little better at least having gotten more than an hour or so of sleep even if the conditions weren’t exactly  _ ideal _ .”

You nod slowly, still schooling your face as best as you can.

“What about you guys? I mean, I know it looked like you were sleeping but it couldn’t have been terribly comfortable playing human restraints all while squeezing onto a double bed.” You say carefully.

“We’ve slept in worse situations,” Sam says with a chuckle. “I actually feel pretty good, well as good as a hunter should ever expect to feel.”

Both you and Sam turn to Dean who’s still fascinated with the floor and allow the silence to stretch before Dean actually nods in acknowledgement, finally looking up from the floor but still not looking directly at you when he speaks.

“Yeah, slept fine. Feel great.” he says gruffly.

“Dean?” you start hesitantly “Is...is everything...did I do something?”

Dean’s eyes go slightly wide as he finally looks at you.

“What? No! No, you didn’t…” Dean stops before standing abruptly “I’m good. Hey, I’m gonna run and grab breakfast and coffee.”

Dean practically runs for the door after stopping briefly to grab his keys and wallet from the nightstand, his gun likely already tucked into the waist of his pants. You and Sam are left to stare at the closed door as you listen to the car rumble to life before peeling off.

“What…” you don’t have a chance to finish as Sam shakes his head at you.

“It’s not something you did. He...we both...look we know how awful it must have been to wake up like that with everything you’ve been through. Neither of us are surprised that you took off like that or that you’re uncomfortable with us again. Dean just...it doesn’t take much to make him feel guilty. He just needs time.” Sam finishes with a rush, like he’s trying to convince you not to run at the first chance.

You nod silently at Sam before standing to move numbly to the still made bed. Looking for an excuse to keep from having to talk anymore, you pick up the remote and turn the tv on. Sam settles down at his laptop.

The fact is that you should probably tell them that you weren’t afraid when you woke up with them holding you down. You weren’t really anything more than surprised and briefly happy to not feel like the walking dead. Which was the reason you bolted in the first place. You’re pretty sure that anyone that had been through what you had such a short time ago would be terrified to wake up like that...to be totally crawling out of your skin whenever someone touches you.

The fact that you weren’t confuses you just slightly more than the fact that you should be happy about the revelation that you might not go through life never being okay with another human being in your space. So, then why are you letting them believe you’re upset about waking up to being touched?

After about five minutes of flipping aimlessly through the channels without actually registering a thing you give up. Instead you gather up clean clothes and your toiletries and head to the bathroom for a shower. You keep it quick, not sure if Sam or Dean had taken a shower last night after you’d fallen asleep.

As you’re dressing and pulling out your toiletries you come across the tube of lotion for your tattoo. Sam or Dean had been helping to put it on a couple of times a day. After you stare at it for at least a minute you make a decision and cover as much of the tattoo with lotion as you can before jamming it back into the bag. For reasons you don’t care to examine at the moment you have no desire to ask Sam to do it for you.

You’re just finishing up in the bathroom when you hear the door to the room closing and voices talking quietly. You pack your toiletries back up and grab your dirty clothes before bracing yourself for more uncomfortable conversations, or worse, awkward silences.

Plastering on as convincing a smile as you can manage you walk back into the room. All pretenses are forgotten when your eyes land on Dean. Without even thinking about it you’ve deposited your stuff on the bed and beelined for the box in Dean’s hand. By the time your brain catches up you’ve already thrown open the lid, grabbed out a powdery sweet confection of circular deliciousness and shoved the biggest bite into your mouth as you can manage. 

While your brain is coming back online your mouth betrays you by letting out an obscene moan as you realize that the donut is still, in fact, warm, obviously freshly made.

That’s about the time when you register Dean staring at you with as single raised brow and the corner of his mouth is ticked up in a rather irritating smirk. Sam’s face isn’t much better, with his eyebrows practically to his hairline and his mouth hanging a little too open to be considered polite.

“What?” you ask indignantly, your voice muffled by the powdery pastry and creamy lemon filling, “I like donuts...sue me.”

Glaring at the two men who are currently doing a very bad job at trying to suppress their laughter you grab two more donuts from the box and turn for the bed. 

Thinking better of it you turn back and quirk an eyebrow when Dean almost defensively pulls the open box away to protect the remaining stash of donuts. You stare him down for a moment to make sure he understands that if you actually  _ wanted _ more donuts then there’s nothing he’d be able to do about it before you grab the coffee marked with your preferred additions and drop yourself down on a bed. 

Taking a sip of your coffee before setting it down to free up your hands you pointedly ignore the poorly hidden laughter from them while they try to look busy at the donut box. Instead you demolish all three donuts with little care for their opinions of you. This is donuts you’re talking about here, nothing else matters.

Which is probably why you’re popping in the last chocolate frosted bite of goodness into your mouth when you notice the change. The tension that’d been weighing over the room like a scratchy wet wool blanket since you’d first opened your mouth had disappeared sometime between your first bite of donut and your last. Sam and Dean are both sitting at the table enjoying their own breakfast while talking over some possible case leads, their words punctuated with easy laughs, their posture relaxed.

Of course it won’t last. There are still things to discuss, you’re not off the hook that easily. Watching the them looking rested and a little healthier than they have been, you know you don’t want to be off the hook. 

It hadn’t escaped your attention how tired Dean was while driving. The last thing you want is for them to survive monsters and demons only to die in a car crash because you can’t stay in your damn bed.

But for now you’re content to watch them, your own smile hidden behind the rim of your cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live and breathe your comments and I could really use a push in the direction of motivation! 
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr if you haven't already! http://spnbrennafae.tumblr.com/


	9. All Wrapped Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a Christmas present. No exchanges allowed.

Turns out it’s a slow day in the world of things going bump in the night. A couple of phone calls is all it takes to make it clear the weak leads that Sam and Dean had been discussing weren’t actually leads. 

Which is why it’s creeping closer and closer to the end of the night and the start of a conversation you aren’t prepared to have. 

“...so if there still isn’t anything tomorrow...hey, you with me?” Sam’s words barely register before you realize he’s talking to you and not Dean.

“Oh, what? Sorry…just zoned out there for a minute. What about tomorrow?” You ask, trying your best to sound interested.

“If we still can’t find a case by tomorrow we’ll head out. Maybe something further east than we’ve been looking.” Sam says, barely masking concern.

“Yeah sure, sounds great. Hey, I’m feeling a bit antsy.” You say as you stand from the bed. You grab your gun from the nightstand and tuck it into your waistband before heading towards the door. “I’m just gonna take a walk around the building.”

You get as far as having your hand on the doorknob when you hear the scrape of a chair on linoleum. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding before you turn and face Dean, who’s now walking toward you. To his credit it looks like he almost considers hesitating when you quirk an eyebrow at him.

“What? I could use some air too.” he says with a shrug.

“Dean, I’ve got my hex bag and my gun and you guys have checked the area a million times. You don’t have to come with me.” You say, doing your best to keep your voice neutral to hide the edge of frustration.

“True, but there’s still a crapload of things that require sharp and pointy rather than a gun. Nevermind all the things that neither works on. Now, I’m happy to put some time in teaching you to work with blades and hand to hand, assuming you aren’t also a pro with those already.” Dean pauses with a raised eyebrow, presumably to give you time to answer before going on. “But until then I’m just not all that comfortable with you out there alone, especially at night. So you’ve got two options, I go with or I wait about ten seconds before I follow you. Your call.”

You spend all of five seconds debating whether or not this is an argument you can win before you turn back to the door in a huff.

“Let’s go then.” You say as you yank the door open and stalk out.

You don’t look back as you hear the door close behind you but it’s only seconds before Dean is in your periphery, pacing you. You walk in silence for a while along the road. The motel is surrounded by sparse woods but a two minute walk brings you to a small strip mall. It’s windows are all dark, this being the kinda town that rolls up their sidewalks at eight but the lights in the small parking lot illuminate it enough to make you feel comfortable nothing will sneak up on you.

By the time you’ve walked the circumference of the lot twice you’ve managed to burn off some of the nerves but you aren’t ready to head back. Which is why you find yourself sitting on one of the cold concrete blocks that separate the road from the lot. Dean is sitting on the block next to you. You try your best to ignore his uncomfortable shifting, knowing it’s signalling he’s working his way up to speaking. Ignoring it doesn’t stop it though.

“Wanna tell me what’s got you all nerved up?” Dean asks, breaking the silence.

“Not really.” You say softly, still staring down at your hands folded in your lap.

“About tonight…” Dean stumbles a little when you jerk your head up to look off to the side, down the empty road and away from him before he continues on. “About tonight, now that we know what to expect we’ll just be faster at getting to you, whoevers on watch, and once you...once you  _ stop _ we’ll know it’s safe to leave again. Easy.”

The relief you feel is almost overwhelming. It’s certainly not what you were expecting although now that you’re here you aren’t sure  _ what  _ you expected. The relief is slightly tinged by the fact that it still leaves Dean and Sam sleeping in shifts and not getting enough sleep themselves but they’ve both insisted from the start that getting four hours of sleep is often a luxury in their line of work.

Any other thoughts on the matter are going to stay firmly tucked away from even your own scrutiny.

“Great, sounds like a plan.” You say as you stand. “On that note, what do you say we head back and wrestle the laptop away from Sam long enough to watch some Who before bed.”

“Fine. But you can’t get mad at me for not liking this new guy.” Dean grumbled.

“Don’t worry Dean, you’re just going through the Who grief cycle. By the time we get to the next Doctor you’ll be just as pissed that Ten is gone.” You say with a laugh.

“Wait...this is gonna happen  _ again _ ? What the hell kinda show is this? Who kills off the main character repeatedly? That’s gonna get old.” Dean finishes his rant with a scowl.

You laugh the whole way back to the motel.

You aren’t laughing several hours later when you wake up on the floor with two very frustrated Winchesters pinning you down, one sporting what’s gonna end up being a pretty decent black eye. Dean mumbles something about maybe not teaching you any hand to hand after all as he leaves to grab himself some ice. Sam explains as the two of you settle in to wait for Dean to return so you can watch more Who.

“He wasn’t fast enough. You barely moved before you were halfway out of bed and by then he couldn’t keep you there by himself, not without hurting you.” Sam says before hurrying on to stem off your disappointment. “But don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”

“And his eye?” You ask guiltily.

“He had you from behind so you swung an elbow back. Was a nice maneuver. Caught him totally by surprise.” Sam smirks.

Dean comes back right about then and by the time the sun comes up the three of you are packed up and on the road. 

You’re stopped for lunch when Sam manages to find something that sounds like a case. He’s light on the info and from the look that passes between the brothers you know they’ll be discussing details when you aren’t around. It doesn’t surprise you since they didn’t share any more details of the previous two cases. It’d annoyed you a little last time but at the moment you were a little too lost in your own thoughts to care.

Dean looks tired. So does Sam. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed it, since really they look exactly the same as they always had before. Except you’d seen what they looked like after a full night's rest and now the differences are apparent in the slight sag of their shoulders when not on alert, the tightness around their eyes, and most importantly the fact that their movements are just a tiny bit slower.

Honestly in a normal person that last one wouldn’t even really be perceivable, let alone matter to their daily function. But normal people don’t drive hours on end. Normal people don’t rely on their quick reflexes to keep them alive while they save the world one monster at a time. You know you have to come up with a plan.

Luckily you’re struck with inspiration just after lunch. You’d mentioned earlier when you were packing up that you weren’t terribly comfortable carrying your gun tucked into your waistband. You manage to suppress the desire to lecture them on how unsafe it was to carry that way, ignoring the echoes of your firearm safety course that your mother had insisted you take. You assume they have their reasons.

So now you’re standing at the trunk of the car as Dean pulls out some holster options for you. It’s at this point that you spot a set of handcuffs glinting in the sunlight. All it takes is a fumble of the hands when Dean passes you a thigh holster to look at. As he bends to pick it up you pocket the cuffs. Obviously you’ll have to mention them eventually but right now you need to get used to the idea and having them on you to touch every so often may help you grow accustomed to the feel.

“This isn’t ideal for concealment. Honestly we only really use it when we’re on a hunt we expect to need a good deal of firepower and want to carry a secondary.” Dean says as he straightens, holster in hand.

He pauses to look at you, a quirk of the eyebrow indicating he senses something off but you barrel on.

“Yeah, that probably won’t work...what do you think of the small of back one?” You ask as you pick up the one in question to examine it.

“Eh.” Dean says, his expression telegraphing his thoughts. “It’s not bad but if you aren’t used to it, drawing can be awkward. Also not terribly comfortable when sitting for long periods so you’d have to unholster every time we got in the car.”

“Good point.” You say as you examine the other options. “Well, I’m not a fan of the ankle holster. My reflexes aren’t that great and I’d just as likely face plant trying to draw as I am to actually shoot anything. That just leaves the shoulder holster and the belt holster. Neither of which are terribly concealable.”

“Reminds me, I didn’t get you a jacket but we should probably get you one. It’s gonna start getting chilly at night soon.” Dean says as he takes the shoulder holster from you. “Here, lets try this one.”

You let the fact that Dean is thinking that you’ll still be around when it gets cold brush past your mind.

He holds the holster up for you to slip it on and sets about adjusting each strap. He’s painfully careful to avoid actual contact to the point where it’s obvious what he’s doing. For the most part you appreciate his consideration. There is, however, the niggling little voice at the back of your mind that wants to scream at being looked at as a delicate flower, mostly when he avoids even the most unobtrusive touches like the back of your shoulder.

The back of your shoulder that is currently sporting a still healing tattoo that is not as far along as it should be because you’ve only been putting lotion on the half of it that you can reach on your own.

“You okay?” Dean asks when you wince at the strap rubbing across your tattoo.

“Yeah, I’m good. This feels pretty comfortable but still doesn’t address the whole concealment issue.” You say as you slip your gun from your waistband to the holster.

Dean looks at you briefly with an unreadable expression as you practice drawing a couple of times to make sure the placement is comfortable. His expression clearing he adjust another strap slightly, dropping the holster a little lower so that you’re reaching across the flattest part of your torso. He nods once when you draw with a little more ease and then backs up.

“Here, this should fix the concealment issue.” Dean says as he shrugs out of the flannel he’s wearing.

As Dean drapes the material over your shoulders and you slip your arms into the sleeves you find yourself flashing back to the other morning when a similar scent surrounded you and a sense of feeling protected swells up in you. Who knew flannel was better than kevlar.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind you roll up your sleeves and practice drawing again to make sure the material of the shirt won’t get in the way until Dean nods in satisfaction. 

Dean’s about to speak and you can tell by the way his face twists up as he prepares that you aren’t gonna want to hear it or discuss it but thankfully it’s at that moment that Sam gets out of the car. He’d been on the phone getting information about the case to make sure there was one before driving there.

“So from everything the coroner just said I’d say it’s definitely a...what we were thinking.” Sam says, switching gears quickly with a look in your direction.

You don’t even bother trying to hide your annoyed scowl.

It’s almost eleven at night by the time Dean pulls into a motel. You still have a few more hours to go before you get to the next town and Sam had made the valid point that the small town you were headed to probably doesn’t have any motels still open. 

You know an awkward conversation about sleeping is looming. You’ve no idea what Sam or Dean might be thinking but you’ve got a plan. You just aren’t ready to share. So as soon as you’re in the room you make a beeline for the shower.

When you come back out, dressed and ready for bed, you’re met with two very sober looking hunters. Sam is sitting at the small table hunched over with his elbows on his knees. Dean is leaning against the wall near the door, looking both determined and still ready to bolt.

Sam’s about to speak but Dean beats him to it.

“Lemme see your tattoo.”

From the look Sam gives, clearly this isn’t what he expected to be discussing.

“Wh...why?” You ask, shifting nervously.

“Because you haven’t been asking me to help you with the lotion. I assumed you’d had Sam help you but he says no. So either you’ve been working on your flexibility or-”

He stops talking long enough to move forward and spin you around before lifting the back of your shirt. You hold it down in front to maintain  _ some _ modesty.

“Shit. Or you haven’t been taking care of it properly.” Sam finishes as he looks past Dean to your exposed shoulder. 

You know that you’ve only been managing to get about half of the area with lotion. Cleaning it wasn’t as hard because you had the aid of a washcloth. But you can feel the area that pulled and burned a little and know it’s where the lotion hasn’t been applied.

“Gimme the lotion.” Dean says and you comply quickly.

When the cool lotion hits the uncared for skin you can’t help but hiss a little. It quickly warms under the motion of Dean’s fingers as he rubs the area gently.

“You realize now that we’re gonna be really fucking annoying with how often we ask if you need lotion put on, right?” Sam says with a chuckle.

Dean hands you back the lotion and drops your shirt. You turn and watch as he makes his way back to the wall and resumes his earlier position. Silence fills the room briefly. Of course Sam is the first to break it.

“About tonight-” Sam starts before you cut him off.

“I got it covered Sam,” You say as you pull the cold metal cuffs from the pockets of your sweatpants. “Just need someone to help me with these.”

Dean startles you when he suddenly pushes off the wall again and eats up the floor space between you with long strides.

“Where did you-” Dean starts as he plucks the cuffs from your hands. “You sneaky...Damn, if you ever decide to take up a life of crime you’re certainly fast enough.”

“Can’t all rely on fake credit cards.” You reply with a weak smile and a shrug.

Dean looks down at the cuffs in his hand with a furrowed brow before looking back up at you. “You don’t have to.” He says softly, the look in his eyes telling you he understands just how much this could cost you.

“It’s no big deal. If it means we all get some sleep then it’s worth it. These will give whoever is on watch long enough to get to me before I’m up then I should fall back asleep just like last time, right?” You ask, forcing as much optimism in your voice as you can muster.

“If you’re sure.” Dean says, his doubt still clear.

When he starts to hand them back to you, you put a hand out to push them back.

“Could you...I...I don’t think I can do it myself.” You swallow back embarrassment at the weakness in your voice.

“Sure, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” Dean said with a reassuring smile. 

Dean stands waiting for you to head to the bed but instead you detour to the grocery bag that’s sitting on the table and pull the whiskey out. As the boys look on you knock back several long pulls straight from the bottle before turning back to the room. Thankfully neither of them acknowledges your need for liquid fortitude and Dean merely follows you to your bed. As he snaps one cuff to the bed you keep your eyes on Sam who’s in the process of setting up the nanny cam.

Dean straightens as he waits for you to lay down and settle under the covers before extending your arm up to the head of the bed. You manage to hold your fragile smile in place to reassure Dean as the click of the cuff around your wrist thunders in your ears.

You can do this.

Between the lack of sleep last night and the shots of whiskey your body is more than ready. All you have to do is stick it out long enough to pass out.

Just gotta stick it out.

All your focus is going into emptying your mind. Unfortunately the annoyingly loud sound of the blood rushing in your ears is distracting. So is the suddenly intense scratchiness of the sheets where it touches your skin and the increasing heat of the blanket covering you.

“Dean!” You hear Sam shout over the buzzing sound.

You open your eyes in time to see Dean look up from his seat on the bed where he was unlacing his boots and you watch as his eyes go wide. As he moves towards you in slow motion you look up to see what he’s looking at. You can’t help but be a little surprised yourself.

You didn’t even notice that your arm had gone completely rigid and that you were pulling against the cuff with such a steady intense pressure that your entire wrist is circled in a deep cut. It’s growing wider by the second as you continue to pull down and the skin beneath the cuff is determined to stay behind. You don’t even feel the blood that’s slowly starting to run along your arm before dripping onto the sheets and pillow.

Suddenly time catches up and Dean is right there releasing your wrist. Sam is close behind with a clean towel that he wraps your wrist with before squeezing tightly. The pain is sharp and causes all the strangely amplified things bombarding your senses to dissipate.  

“Sorry! I’m sorry...I didn’t...I didn’t even feel that. I’m sorry!” You stammer as your body starts shaking.

“No, don’t apologize.” Sam says as he continues to hold your wrist.

Dean yanks the blanket from the other bed and slides behind you with his back to the headboard. He pulls you halfway into his lap and adds the blanket to the bedding already covering you before tucking the edges in tightly around you, covering everything but your head and your injured arm, which Sam is still holding. He slowly lets up pressure and watches the towel.

“Blood isn’t soaking through, I don’t think it was too deep, but I think you might be in shock.”

Sam lets you go long enough to go to his bag and grab the first aid kit. You wince as he pulls the towel away but settle as he cleans and bandages it. The shaking subsides as Dean smooths your hair and makes calming noises. Your eyes are feeling heavy as the gentle touches on your head and wrist smooth away your frayed edges.

***

“Damn it! How’d she even get away?”

“She’s fast and slippery as fuck and I didn’t really wanna break her other wrist holding on when she threw herself out of bed!”

You blink your eyes open and find yourself staring at an up close view of the stained shag of the carpet. This is new. You’re face down on the carpet, your arms spread out to either side. Every inch of you other than your head is completely blanketed by bodies but you can’t tell which part belongs to which person.

“Seriously? You can pin a vamp down but not her?”

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Umm...guys?” You say, your voice muffled by the carpet. “I’m awake...you can let me up now.”

Instantly the pressure is gone from your back and for a moment you almost miss the security of it. You slowly manage to pull yourself up to your knees before standing. Without bothering to ask for an explanation you make your way between the still kneeling men and sit at the computer.

Scrolling through the footage you see that you fell asleep in Dean’s lap while Sam was still dealing with your wrist. Dean had adjusted to the point where he was laying down on his side behind you with one arm wrapped around your middle and a discrete gap between your bodies that was big enough for the camera to pick up. 

Fastforwarding to the point where you start to twitch you watch as you flail your arms out before trying to sit up. Dean manages to hold on briefly but from his position he only has one arm free to do so and you’re able to slide from his grip. He makes a last ditch effort to hold on by grabbing your hand but when you throw your weight off the bed he lets go quickly. Sam is rushing over from the table that he’d been sitting at and Dean is scrambling off the bed. In no time they have you pinned and you watch as they soundlessly argue over you.

All caught up you turn to face Sam and Dean, who haven’t moved from the floor. The dejected slump of their shoulders nearly breaks your heart. 

“This isn’t working.” You force the words out. “I think you guys should take me to a hospital. I...I’ll figure out a way to keep the hex bag near me. Besides, we’re pretty far from the last place they may have spotted us. I bet you’ll get ‘em before they even catch wind.”

“Your wrist isn’t that bad, you don’t need to go to the hospital. Doesn’t even need stitches.” Dean says.

“She’s not talking that kind of hospital.” Sam says, his voice firm and his eyes not leaving yours. “She’s talking padded walls and electro shock.”

The shudder that runs through both men tells a story you aren’t sure you want to hear.

“No. No way. Not gonna dump you in a place like that.” Dean says, his mouth pursed and his head shaking.

“Guys, c’mon. Something is seriously fucked up in my head. And I need sleep. We all do. Jesus, Dean, it’s a miracle you haven’t driven off the road yet. Never mind what the lack of sleep does to your reflexes when you’re hunting.”

“We’ve dealt with a lot worse than a few spooks on a lot less sleep.” Dean spits out, clearly not ready to give up the fight.

“He’s right though, we can’t dump you in a psych hospital. Those are the kind of places that do strip searches before they show you to your room. No way you’re sneaking in a hex bag.” Sam says as he stands and moves to sit on his bed.

Unable to argue their points but unwilling to accept that you  _ had _ to be the reason why they may get themselves killed because you can’t handle a bad dream you come to a decision you aren’t too happy with.

“Fine. Then I need someone to drive me to the store later so I can pick up some sleeping pills.” You say.

“But you said-” Sam starts.

“I don’t care what I said Sam, I’ll manage.” You say, cutting him off. “Maybe forcing myself to stay asleep will make me push through whatever this is.”

“No.” Dean says quietly without looking up from the spot on the floor that he’s been staring at. Finally he lifts his eyes to look at you. “I know what those kinds of dreams are like and I’m not leaving you  _ stuck _ there just so I can catch some Zs.”

“Well then.” You say, your jaw set. “I guess you better start thinking of an alternative. You’ve turned down my last two ideas. You have until tonight. I’m gonna get dressed. If you guys wanna get some sleep I’m fine, otherwise we might as well get back on the road.”

You grab your bag and head into the bathroom. You try and stamp down the guilt at being so cold but the only way you’re gonna get them to take care of themselves is if you don’t give them a choice. When you finish Dean and Sam are waiting in the room with their bags, having not had a chance to even change last night. By the time you hit the road it’s just before three. 

You roll into the town where the case is just after seven. The three of you stop for breakfast at a little diner, though you barely remember tasting your food. Conversation is stilted at best. Sam tries to get you to change your mind, using the words ‘be reasonable’ and ‘can’t’. It only firms up your resolve. After that they don’t say much.

You’re driving to the nearest motel when you spot a store.

“Dean, stop at the store please.” You say, your tone neutral.

Dean doesn’t slow down and passes the entrance to the parking lot.

“Dean!” You yell, exasperated.

Dean swears loudly before yanking the steering wheel and making a u turn going way too fast and you would have been flung across the seat if the belt hadn’t locked in painfully. The car is barely at a complete stop when you’re out, slamming the door and stomping for the store. 

You’re sliding back into the back seat and slamming the door again within seconds, your arms crossed and yours eyes glaring at the space between the brothers.

“Problem?” Dean asked, as if he didn’t know exactly why you were back, a fact that was made obvious when neither brother actually got out to follow you.

“I don’t have any fucking money.” You snarl before the anger settles and instead you sit with your shoulders slumped. “Could you please buy me the sleeping pills?”

You can tell that Dean is about to refuse when Sam opens his door. Dean whips his head around to glare at his brother.

“I haven’t figured out an alternative yet Dean, have you?” Sam asks.

When Dean doesn’t answer, Sam slides out of the car. The silence in the car while you and Dean wait is suffocating. You miss the easy rappaport you’d started to find with them. But you’ll be damned if things are gonna continue on the way they have been. Sam comes back and you’re off in search of the motel Sam had found on Google. 

It’s still too early for check in so you go to the local library instead. While the boys view microfiche of old newspapers to look for possible back history of the house they were planning to investigate you wander through the science fiction section. You breath in the familiar smell of printed literature and feel yourself settle just a little bit. 

You run a finger lightly across the spines of the books before coming to a stop on a copy of Ender’s Game. You’ve read it before but familiarity is equalling comfort right now so you pull it from the shelf and find yourself an overstuffed arm chair to curl up on.

You’re completely engrossed in the book and have lost all track of time when you notice a pair of jean clad bow legs in front of you, just over the top of the book. Looking up at Dean and taking in his relaxed stance and crossed arms you get the feeling he’d been there for more than a few seconds.

“Time to go, we found what we needed and the motel should be ready for check in.”

Reluctantly you close the book and stand. Dean waits for you to pass and turns to follow. You set the book down on the little rolling cart for book returns and head toward the entrance.

“Hey, Sam should be at the door. I’m gonna hit the head, I’ll be right out.” Dean says before he hands you the car keys and turns down the hallway with the sign for the restroom.

You and Sam are settled in the car and waiting by the time Dean comes out. As he slides into the driver’s seat he reaches into his jacket. Your eyes go wide when you see him pull out the book you’d been reading. You can’t help but sputter a bit when he tosses it back to you.

“Dean! Did you just take this?” You ask incredulously.

“You looked like you wanted to keep reading.” Dean said with a shrug. “If it makes you feel any better I dropped a twenty in the donation jar before I left.”

Dean’s watching you in the rearview mirror and you can’t help the small smile that curls the corner of your mouth. When Dean sees it the stony expression he’s been wearing all morning melts into a matching smile.

The rest of the day is business as usual, except instead of watching more tv or Netflix you spend the day immersed in a book while Dean and Sam are off doing interviews. So much so, in fact, that you’re startled when the door opens and you check your phone (after taking your hand off your holstered gun) and see that it’s already six o’clock.

“How’d it go?” You ask, casually trying to hide the fact that they’d surprised you.

“Okay,” Sam says. “We figured out who's haunting the place and where they’re buried but there’s some big overnight church camp thing going on this weekend and there’s kids all over the church grounds. Should be clear tomorrow night though.”

“Hey Sammy,” Dean says as he drops down onto the nearest bed. “I’m beat, why don’t you two go grab supper while I catch twenty.”

“Uhh, Sure, Dean.” Sam responds with a raised eyebrow as he catches the keys tossed to them.

You want to ask why they didn’t just stop while they were out but Dean looks dog tired so you aren’t gonna begrudge him a few minutes of peace to get some sleep. When you and Sam get back to the motel though, you’re confused and a little concerned to see Dean standing outside the motel waiting. Wondering if something happened with the case you hop out of the car and jog up to him.

“Everything okay?” You ask as Sam catches up.

“Yeah, fine. Just a change of rooms.” Dean says as he places a hand on your elbow to guide you to a door a few rooms down from the one you’d been in.

“Why? Was there something wrong?” You ask as you stand at the door and wait while Dean unlocks it.

“Nope. You asked for a better solution and you gave me a deadline. Here’s my solution.” Dean says as he swings the door open.

The room could be a carbon copy of the previous room with one very big difference. The two double beds have been replaced by one king size bed.

The bags have all been moved to this room and are currently piled on the bed. Looking around you see that Dean’s already set up the nanny cam. He must’ve started working on the switch the moment you left.

“Just needed some sleep huh?” You ask with narrowed eyes.

“Hey, if this works out then I won’t need a nap.” Dean says with a shrug, though he’s still having a hard time looking at you. “Figured it was the one thing that worked, one of us on each side so you can’t slip out and this way we can all get some sleep.”

“Dean I-” You start.

“Don’t take the pills.” Dean pleads, his eyes finally meeting yours and making you feel like you’ve been slammed into by a semi. “Don’t do that to yourself,  _ please _ .”

“I was going to say that I think this is a good idea, at least worth a try.” You lie through your teeth.

You were totally about to protest but one look at Dean has you changing your mind. The look you catch from Sam out of the corner of your eye leads you to believe he caught the change in direction but thankfully he doesn’t say anything.

That’s how you find yourself laying down in the middle of the large bed underneath the blanket while Sam and Dean settle on either side of you on top of the blanket after you had finished supper and showered. A few minutes of squirming is all you can manage though.

“Umm guys? I kinda feel a little pinned down, claustrophobic like this.” You say as you try and move your arms and fail in an attempt to demonstrate what you’re saying.

The boys both grin at your predicament before they stand up and both push the blanket in towards you so when they lay back down they aren’t laying on top of the blanket anymore. You’re finally able to get comfortable and find yourself drifting off almost immediately, surrounded by warmth and now familiar smells.

When you wake again it’s to the early morning sunlight streaming through the window. At some point during the night both Sam and Dean and wormed their way under the blanket and currently each of them had an arm draped over your midsection. You allow yourself a brief moment of discomfort at the situation before you push it away. You feel amazing. 

You’re pretty sure you had a nightmare but you can’t remember it and you’ve slept. As far as you can tell they slept. And if you're perfectly honest you have no desire to interrupt that sleep. Instead you burrow into the warmth and let yourself drift back off again, not missing the moment when Sam’s arm tightens protectively around you while he sleeps.

When you wake up a few hours later it’s to a much colder empty bed. Sam is sitting at his computer. You don’t see Dean but a look in that direction tells you the bathroom door is closed

“Good morning.” Sam says quietly, like he’s trying not to disturb some fragile peace.

“Morning.” You murmur, still half buried under the blanket as you try and read the expression on his face.

It’s...anticipation? Nervous?

You’re about to ask if he’s alright when the bathroom door opens. Dean walks out toweling off his wet hair but he freezes when his eyes land on you and he sees that you’re awake.

“Hey.” He says as he shifts awkwardly.

Looking back and forth between them you see the same shared expression. You can’t help it. A little snort escapes before a smile curls up on your lips. Luckily it seems to be just what was needed and suddenly the tension is gone. Both men break into smiles of their own and then life goes on.

You spend the day eating crappy food and binging Doctor Who. When it gets dark enough Sam and Dean head to the graveyard. They come back sweaty, dirty and tired, both making quick trips through the shower. You’d been smart enough to shower right after they left knowing that they would need the hot water. When everyone’s ready for bed you settle into your spots and sleep soundly. 

This time you remember your nightmare when you wake up but you also remember the bonds that held you turning to strong warm arms and the screams of your nightmare morphing into words of comfort. 

In the morning the car is packed up and the three of you head out. They haven’t found a case yet but they want to put some distance between you and the last one. You’re two states over when you stop for the night. Once again Dean gets a room with one large bed and the next three nights are spent the same way with nightmares melting into safety and everyone waking up rested. Part of you feels like you should be awkward around them during waking hours but they just feel comfortable, safe.

They feel like home.

You really fight to avoid thinking that. You barely know them, they barely know you. You’re a job, an obligation.

Not to mention sooner or later, they’ll leave you behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm not trying to be irritating. I keep starting with a plan to move things forward and it just always ends up feeling too fast. 
> 
> Thank you as always to my wonderful Beta @DaydreamDestiel
> 
> Come visit me on Tumblr http://spnbrennafae.tumblr.com/
> 
> I live for your commentary.


	10. Girl's Gotta Have Some Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn a little bit about work and a little bit about play. Sometimes they can be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Crap I'm so sorry! I've been neck deep in working on other fics.
> 
> Thanks as always to my lovely Beta @DaydreamDestiel

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Dean, it was  _ your _ idea.”

“Yeah, well sometimes I have some supremely bad ideas. Just ask Sammy.”

You’d been having the argument for the past twenty minutes as you alternated between watching the road go by and glaring at Dean in the rearview mirror. 

“Really, why do you need to learn hand to hand, you got me and Sammy to watch out for you.” Dean says with a grin that makes it clear he doesn’t hear quite how patronizing he sounds.

Doesn’t mean he didn’t sound like an ass.

“Dean.” Sam tries to warn.

Too late.

“Well isn’t that just  _ wonderful _ that I have two big strong men to keep me safe. But since you’re too keen to point out on the regular that until I learn to defend myself I need one of you to babysit me if I so much as  _ look _ at the outside world I  _ really  _ think it’s necessary.” You growl from the backseat. “Besides, when I’m not your guys’ problem anymore I’m gonna need to look out for myself. Just because this is the first time my Dad’s lifestyle’s caught up to me doesn’t mean it’ll be the last.”

You watch as Dean’s smile slips from his face during your tirade until something unreadable flashes across it at your second point before his expression becomes closed off. You feel a little bad, though you aren’t sure why. You didn’t say anything other than fact.

“This isn’t a game, you know.” Dean says without taking his eyes off the road. “I’m not one for pulling my punches. Even when Sammy and I trained growing up we did it full out. I’d end up hurting you.”

“I’ll do it.” Sam says, staving off your next tirade before you have a chance to let loose.

Dean levels Sam with a scowl before he turns back to watch the road.

“We still don’t have a case so we might as well stop in the next town. We can can work on hand to hand while you look for one Dean.” Sam says, clearly shutting down any arguments Dean might make.

“Good, then it’s settled.” You say, probably a little too smugly.

***

You’re feeling a lot less smug several hours later. An hour into hand to hand combat with Sam in an empty  _ cold _ field. The ground might be softer than asphalt but it was still littered with stones and sticks. And Sam may be pulling  _ his _ punches but god damn does it still hurt.

You’d managed to get the hang off most of the defensive maneuvers, blocking punches and kicks well enough to turn tail and run, but now you were working on combining that with offensive for when you were already caught and had to fight to get away. Sam had run you through some different methods and now he was making you put them to use without knowing what the hell he was gonna do next.

Sam reached a hand down to help you from the ground, your latest failure having planted you firmly on your very sore ass.

“Maybe I shoulda insisted on Dean.” You grumble as you reach up to take his offered hand. “I’m beginning to think  _ he’s _ the nice one.”

As Sam grips your hand you’re surprised to find yourself being yanked up and spun around, Sam’s iron like forearm across your neck trapping you against him.

“Was that  _ complaining _ I just heard?” He asks centimeters from your ear.

The first time Sam had grabbed you, you’d almost gone into full blown panic. If it weren’t for the fact that Sam had been anticipating your less than positive reaction and had released you  _ immediately _ you probably would have. The second and third time got progressively easier and by the fourth you were actually able to start learning.

Now? Now you’re just pissed he got the drop on you and is teasing you.

You haven’t been able to escape any of dozen or so times Sam has grabbed you and it occurs to you that it’s probably got a lot to do with the fact that  _ he taught you everything. _ Of  _ course _ he’d be able to counter anything you tried. So, time to improvise and do the last thing he’d expect.

Letting your entire body go lax you drop suddenly, the arm across your throat pushes painfully against your windpipe and cuts off your air. But it’s only temporary. You find yourself at the perfect height to drill your elbow into Sam’s groin. Of course you land it more into the meat of his thigh, but Sam had agreed to react the same when you told him you couldn’t actually make yourself hurt him that badly. Though he did insist that the hit still had to feel hard enough that he  _ would _ react.

Which he does. His arms loosen enough for you to slip down further into a crouch and you spin around and hook your arm around the back of his knee and yank, sending Sam flat on his back. Before he can react you scramble to straddle him, your knees braced on either side of his hips to keep your balance as you pull the stick you were using as a mock knife from the back of your pants and bring it down firmly onto Sam’s neck.

Cut the head off, it’ll kill or at least incapacitate most things.

You try not to think about how disturbing that should be to you.

For a moment the both of you stay in your positions, breathing heavy from a mix of exertion and surprise. The look of admiration in Sam’s eyes has you feeling proud and warm all over. The silence is broken though when you can’t resist letting out a loud whoop, pumping your fist to the sky. 

Damn it, you  _ aren’t _ helpless and it feels  _ so _ good.

Sam laughs at your reaction, but there isn’t the sting of mocking in it and you can tell he is just as happy as you are. Then the silence settles again as breathing returns to normal.

After a moment Sam quirks an eyebrow.

“Umm, you’re gonna have to get off if you wanna keep training. Plus it might get awkward if you keep wiggling like that. Not that I blame you, I’d be excited too. That was a pretty awesome, if not risky, move.”

Suddenly you’re extremely aware that you are in fact currently straddling Sam, your most intimate parts unguarded by your thighs and pressed against Sam’s… parts. Flushing, you scramble off to the side before getting to your feet with a mumbled apology. 

“Hey,” Sam starts as he gets to his feet, clearly seeing your discomfort and trying end it, “That was really good. I should probably lecture you about how it coulda gone wrong but the risk was what made it so surprising.”

Feeling a swell of pride push away whatever it was you’d been feeling you can’t help but return Sam’s smile.

“Okay Winchester, let’s see how many other ways I can kick your ass.” You say with a grin.

***

Smug is about as good a look on you as black and blue is. Despite your cocky challenge you didn’t manage to best Sam again and you were the one that ended up on your back more often than not. 

Which is why you’re filling up the ice bucket from the machine by the office. If you’re gonna be moving tomorrow you’re gonna be icing tonight. You were a little surprised that you weren’t followed when you left to go to the ice machine but couldn’t help but feel a small thrill of accomplishment.

How sad that walking to the ice machine alone is such an achievement.

You must have left the door open because when you’re walking back you see a crack of light and voices filter out. You don’t  _ plan _ to eavesdrop but when you hear your name you can’t help but slow down.

“Seriously Dean, you think I can’t see that you’re stalling? This is the longest we’ve gone without being able to find a case. The few leads I found you’ve  _ insisted _ weren’t actual leads. Now you’re gonna tell me that you’ve spent  _ hours _ scouring the whole eastern seaboard and couldn’t find even one thing that sounded even a little off?”

“When have I  _ ever _ tried to avoid cases Sammy? This is stupid. I know you’re accusing me of  _ something _ but I got no clue what.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We’re getting close to endgame here. To drawing out whatever demons are still after her so we can gank ‘em. Suddenly things start stalling out. Dean, don’t lie to me, I know you too well for that to work and you know it.”

“Shit Sammy, I’m just…”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I’m worried, okay?”

“What, you think they won’t come after us? We haven’t laid a good enough trail?”

“No. Jesus Sammy we’re talking about using her as bait! What if… what if we screw up? If they get their hands on her again, if they…  _ hurt _ her again, how’re we gonna live with ourselves? I can’t...”

Hearing Dean’s voice waiver when he talks about you getting hurt has you wanting to barge in and comfort but you get the distinct feeling you weren’t supposed to hear any of that. Instead you back track a few doors down and start swinging the ice bucket, making the cubes clang loudly against the metal.

It’s loud enough to do the trick because their voices are quiet when you got to the door. Pushing open the door you see Sam at the laptop and no sign of Dean but you hear the shower turning on behind the closed bathroom door. 

“So you want some of this, Sam?” You ask gesturing with the bucket.

“What for?” Sam asks, his brow lifting.

Well he could have at least  _ pretended _ to be a little beaten up, even if that wasn’t what you were getting at.

“For the beating your pride musta taken when you told Dean I took your ass out.” You say with a grin.

Sam threw his head back and laughed, his whole face lit with amusement. God it’s nice to listen to.

“I figured I’d let you do the honors.”

Which of course you do. In detail. Settling in for the night is underlined with laughter that is only briefly marred when Sam finds a case after only a short amount of searching and Dean’s face clouds over. But it’s quickly shoved away when  _ Dean _ actually suggests that when they’re ready for the salt n’ burn you should come along.

***

Okay, so maybe you didn’t think this through. Judging by the smug look on Dean’s face as he watches you dig  _ he _ did. Still, when you’re standing around watching the flames consume the bones of some poor old lady that hadn’t wanted to give up the home her husband built as a wedding gift, even in death, you feel good. Accomplished. Useful.

“So is that it? All good?” You ask as you practically skip back to the car after the grave has been refilled.

Sure you’re tired, probably a little dirty, definitely sweaty and tomorrow is gonna be a bitch on your body. But right now adrenaline is riding high and you wanna ride that wave as long as you can.

“Let’s go out!” You say when you reach the car.

When you spin around the mixture of disbelief and surprise has your high dipping.

“Seriously?” Sam asks with raised eyebrows. “We’re exhausted and filthy and you wanna what, go clubbing?”

“No…” You start, trying not to pout. “But we passed a bar on the way.”

“Nevermind the fact that it isn’t  _ safe  _ taking you out in public where there are who knows how many people, don’t you think people would give us some awful funny looks? We look like we’ve been, oh I don’t know,  _ gravedigging _ .” Dean says, clearly irritated.

Looking down at yourself then back up at them you see what he means. You’d been smart enough to take off the flannel you were wearing before you started digging, knowing it wouldn’t take long to warm up so it was just your undershirt that was dirty. Your pants were dark and didn’t show the dirt. Giving your shirt a sniff has you rethinking putting the flannel on to cover it up.

“Turn around.” You say as you shake out the flannel.

“Come again?” Dean asks.

“I said, turn around! Now!” You order.

Sam at least has the decency to listen and do as you say. Dean, on the other hand stands his ground more firmly and crosses his arms.

“We  _ aren’t _ going anywhere but back to the motel so you don’t need to bother doing… whatever.”

Fixing Dean with a narrow glare you grasp the hem of your shirt.

“Fine. Don’t.” You say as you pull your shirt up and over your head.

When your vision’s unobstructed again you can’t help but grin at the fact that Dean’s suddenly facing the other way. You pull on your flannel and button it up before you walk over to the guys. Without waiting for them to turn around you reach up and tug at the flannel Sam is wearing.

“Now, these are lost causes but I think…” You say as Sam let’s himself be manhandled out of his shirt and you get a look at the one underneath when he turns. “Yeah, this one looks fine.”

You hand Sam his shirt and move to Dean who’s turned around and glaring at you, arms still crossed. Clearly he isn’t planning on being quite as cooperative as Sam but you’re determined, feeling well and truly  _ good _ for the first time in too long and you’ll wait him out til the sun goes cold if you have to.

Evidently something Dean sees in your face or stance telegraphs this fact because he begrudgingly uncrosses his arms and tugs off his flannel. His shirt had also been protected. Looking them over again, their jeans aren’t too bad, mostly just loose dirt. 

You bend down to brush most of it off Sam’s pants before moving over to Dean. The smirk on Dean’s face as you reach out to brush his legs off has your stomach doing a funny little flip that you aren’t really ready to examine more closely. Said smirk disappears quickly though when you brush at his hips before quickly slipping your fingers into his pocket and snatching his key ring.

“Hey!” Dean yells as you dance out of his reach.

You toss the keys to Sam before you head for the back seat.

“You think I’m stupid Dean? I know you’d keep right on driving past the bar.”

Still you see Sam hesitate and can’t help but deflate.

“Please Sam.” You practically whisper, unable to meet his eyes. “I  _ need _ this.”

When Sam turns to walk around the car to the driver’s side you can’t stop the little celebratory fist pump. Dean’s arms fly up in the air too but clearly not in celebration.

“Seriously Sam? You know this is a bad idea.” Dean nearly shouts.

“She’s not gonna spend the rest of her life locked up in a motel room, Dean. I think she’s earned a night out.” Sam says as he unlocks the car. “Besides, we’ll be there to keep an eye on things.”

Dean stands there for a moment, watching as you and Sam slide into the car. You can’t help but hold your breathe as you wait, counting the seconds in your head. If Dean really pushes you know Sam will end up agreeing with him. Thankfully Dean’s tense stance relaxes and he begrudgingly takes his place in the passenger seat.

“Fine. One drink. No dancing. We’re in, we’re out.” Dean grumbles.

“That’s what she said.” You can’t help but say with a giggle.

Sam laughs the entire way to the bar.

***

Three drinks later and you still aren’t ready to leave. Turns out the bar is pretty popular for the area. The crowd’s a little rough around the edges but overall seems fairly jovial and welcoming. Classic rock pumps out the speakers that surround the large dance area in front of an empty stage. You longingly watch the people on the floor dancing and laughing.

“Please.” you beg, drawing the word out in what some may consider a bit of a whine.

“No, absolutely not.” Dean says, nursing his beer and looking away from across the table.

“Yeah, I’m not really much for dancing. Sorry.” Sam shrugs sympathetically from his seat next to Dean.

You’re feeling comfortable and warm, the alcohol working through your system. You’d moderated your drinking since being rescued, the idea of not being in control a little scary but tonight you weren’t feeling that fear. With that in mind you shrug back at the boys and slide out of your side of the booth.

“Fine, I’ll dance by myself.”

They may have called after you but you’re already on your way to the dance floor. You quickly get swallowed up by the crowd as you let the music pour over you and sink into your body. There’s a lot of people and quarters are close but the liquid courage pumping through you and the music drowning out thought has you bouncing and swaying along with them.

You only jump a little when a voice sounds at your ear.

“How ‘bout a dance?”

You turn around and have to look up to face the man behind you. He’s right around Dean’s height, with dark brown hair, dark eyes and an easy smile. He’s cute. Still, having a stranger take interest in you makes you more than a little nervous.

“Christo.” you mutter.

Confusion creases the man’s brow but nothing else changes.

“What was that?” he asked, leaning in to hear better.

“Uh, Christ I’d love to.” You say, feeling a little foolish.

You start moving in tandem without actually touching. It’s a fast past song so there’s no need. Which is why you’re a little surprised when strong hands grip your hips. You feel the first flutter of fear push through the haze of alcohol. You do your best to laugh as you push at the hands holding you, increasing your pace hoping to make it more awkward.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” the man says grinning, gripping tighter and pulling you into him.

Hearing the endearment spoken by someone other than Dean feels so wrong. It only amplifies the panic that’s beginning to clutch and tear at you. You know your smile is a distant memory as you look around a little frantically but you’re surrounded by a crush of bodies. For a dizzying moment the edges of your vision start to go foggy.

Suddenly something hard and warm and familiar is pressed against your back.

“I think this dance is mine.” Dean growls from over your shoulder as he sways with you.

“No problem pal.” The man says with a wink as he continues to pull you toward him. “I bet she don’t mind sharing.”

“Then isn’t it just lucky that I’m here.” You hear Sam say from your right.

Your vision is suddenly filled with the broad expanse of Sam’s chest as he slides between you and your former dance partner, breaking his hold as he begins to dance with you, ignoring the man entirely. You feel Dean’s hands lightly hold your hips to steady you. You’ve only just noticed that you’re shaking.

Finding yourself in the familiar press between them, your entire body relaxes almost immediately. You’re vaguely aware of the stranger moving on to easier pastures. Sam rests a hand on your shoulder, ready to lead you from the crowd but you aren’t ready to go. Without thinking you reach out with both hands, pressing Sam’s to your shoulder and one of Dean’s to your hip.

“One dance? Please? I… I was having fun… before.” You ask, feeling color rise in your cheeks.

Something in the back of your head is niggling at you, telling you this is a bad idea. Probably would have made more of an impact two drinks ago. Sam looks over your shoulder briefly before looking back down at you and nodding with a soft smile. Dean’s grip on you firms up just a little and the three of you start moving together again.

You feel Dean press in a little closer before he whispers in your ear.

“We got you, sweetheart. You just enjoy the music.”

Much better.

***

_ Hands slide over your bare skin. You try so hard to not cry as you wait for the pain to start. They only hurt you more when you cry. As the touches move down, sliding over your belly and further still, you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, an act you know is futile and will only mean more bruises. Then someone’s whispering at your ear. _

_ “Shhhh… it’s okay.” Sam says as you feel his fingers brush against your face, smoothing your hair away, “Let him make you feel good. It  _ can  _ be good again.” _

_ You don’t so much as feel Sam’s lips press against the stretch of your neck as you just know it’s happening. Just like the touches, the ones you’re sure now are coming from Dean, are muted. What isn’t muted is the feeling that’s changing inside of you.  _

_ The fear that had been firmly rooted in your gut is shifting and and blurring as hands reach the apex of your thighs. It’s dark, twisted, oily colors and sharp edges are slowly blurring and blending, softening in shape as it turns to something golden and warm. _

_ Then it spikes into something white hot and consuming as you just  _ know  _ the touch has reached your core. You reach out into the darkness, flailing around, in front of and behind you until you grasp onto something firm, fabric draped and so very warm. As you anchor yourself to the heat that’s surrounding you, you can’t help but press into the touch as blazing heat spills from inside you, flooding out to push back the darkness. _

_ Just as the darkness is about to be forced out entirely, the warm pleasure nearing its peak, it all slams back down as you find your hands empty and the warmth gone. _

_ Your whole body rattles with the sound of a door slamming hard. _

_ But that...that wasn’t here in the darkness..that was… _

Blinking your eyes open, two things strike you as off. One, the light’s not the natural light of early morning that you’ve become accustomed to waking up to over the last week, it’s the artificial glow of the lamp on the nightstand. Two, you aren’t surrounded by the usual warmth and press of limbs that you’ve been waking up to, even on mornings where you’re the last one actually awake.

Sitting up slowly you note that Dean’s side of the bed is empty, though the warmth you feel as your hand brushes over the sheet tells you it hasn’t been for long. Turning toward the other side of the bed you see Sam sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees and his face cradled in his hands.

“Sam? What… what’s going on? What’s wrong? Where did Dean go?” You ask, your voice still sluggish with sleep.

“He’s...umm...he’s in the bathroom.” Sam says, still looking away. “You should probably watch the footage.”

You hadn’t bothered to watch anything the last couple of days but the camera was still set up every night. Hesitantly you slide out from between the sheets and make your way over.

“But it’s no big deal!” Sam says in a rush, finally looking at you with wide, earnest eyes and flushed cheeks. “Please, don’t get upset.”

“Well  _ that’s _ not ominous.” You mumble as you sit and pull up the camera.

You start it at the beginning. Sam must have started the camera just after you’d stumbled in, exhausted but happy. One dance had turned into five with a couple more drinks, though Dean had opted to sit out the last two. You speed through as you watch yourself go into the bathroom to shower quickly and dress for bed. Then Dean takes his turn. Then Sam. You watch as you and Dean laugh and know that it was from the undignified yelp from Sam as the shower suddenly ran cold.

You fast forward through the three of you crawling into bed, the heavy blanket abandoned at the foot in favor of just the sheets with everyone still feeling overheated from the night of exertion. You can tell that you’re the first one to fall asleep, your body settling quickly. Sam and Dean follow fairly soon after.

Almost like clockwork you see yourself start to stir about an hour and a half in. You’re not surprised by the fact that both Sam and Dean tighten their grip on you, without even fully waking up. But then your movement changes. You’re laying on your side, facing Dean with Sam at your back. Your movements aren’t jerky anymore, like you’re getting ready to run or fight. They become smoother, more fluid.

A feeling of horror settles over you as you remember your dream and watch the arm pinned under your sleeping form reach out to grasp onto Dean’s shoulder to pull him in as your other hand reaches behind you, seeking the warmth there. When you catch hold of the bicep of the arm Sam has draped over you, you see him wake.

You force yourself to keep watching as you start writhing against them. The thin sheet covering you isn’t enough to keep you from seeing when your upper leg slides over Dean’s to lock behind his hip. Both of them are up and you can tell as soon as they see the look on your face they know something’s really really off. 

Your eyes are still closed but you can tell even from a distance that your cheeks are flushed and your lips are parted. You don’t have the strength to turn the sound up but you can guess at the noises you’re making as you press forward and back, grinding obscenely against both of them in a strange mirroring of the more chaste dancing you did that evening.

The two of them are awake now, smoothing hands on your hair and shoulder, trying to wake you. You can see panic on both their faces. Then Dean’s shaking his head at Sam and forcibly removing himself from your hold. He stumbles out of bed, his gait strange as he walks to the bathroom with his hand hanging low in front of his groin. Sam does the same and sits on the edge of the bed seconds before the door slams and you’re waking up.

Clicking stop you look up from the screen. Sam’s still sitting on the edge of the bed. Dean had come out at some point and was leaning against the wall by the bathroom door. Neither were looking directly at you.

“I… I’m so sorry.” You whisper.

You can feel tears forming in your eyes. They’d put their lives on hold for you. Shaped their world around keeping you safe, even going so far as giving up their own bed to protect you even in sleep. And you turn around and did… this. Forcing yourself on them like this. Somehow this was so much worse than the bruises and cuts you’d caused.

“I… my dream. It was… different. I don’t know…” You stop to try and swallow down the bile that’s rising in your throat.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to sob out.

Then you’re moving. Yanking the door open and running out into the black cold night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on Tumblr at spnbrennafae
> 
> I have a twitter now too @brenna_fae


	11. One Step Forward Two Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things are so wrong you're left with no option beyond fleeing into the night. Will the boys let you go? If you don't leave will things ever be the same?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry this has taken so long to update.

You get about three steps out the door when a strong hand grips your shoulder. Tensing up, you contemplate pulling away but know that it will only lead to whomever is behind you following you, distracted and likely unprepared since they probably didn’t take the time to rearm as fast as they were behind you.

Turning slowly you aren’t surprised to find Sam standing behind you, his hand dropping from your shoulder when it’s apparent you aren’t going anywhere. It takes every ounce of strength you’ve got but you force yourself to look up. The expected discomfort and distancing isn’t there. Instead Sam’s eyes are soft and pleading.

“Come back inside. Please.” Sam asks gently.

There’s no doubt in your mind that if you turned around and walked away right now Sam wouldn’t try to stop you. To force you to stay where you didn’t want to be. But you also know he wouldn’t let you go alone. Maybe it’s a false sense of choice in the end but it’s enough to ease your tension. Enough to give you the strength to walk back into the last place you want to be.

Eyeing the rumpled bed sheets, then the chair seated in front of the still open laptop with it’s damning footage, you opt instead to stand, leaning awkwardly against the wall one hand gripping your forearm in an attempt to not fidget too much.

The room is quiet as you all stand still in your respective corners, physical distance not the only thing between you but you can’t force yourself to look at either man. When the silence stretches so far it feels as though it’s going to snap you decide to break it on your own.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper softly to the floor, this time tears fall freely.

“Don’t.”

You’re surprised to hear Dean’s gruff voice. He tended to be fairly quiet during the more uncomfortable situations and if he did speak up it was to try and break the tension with over the top optimism that didn’t feel entirely natural on him. His unexpected interruption has you looking up before you have a chance to remember your embarrassment. He’s looking at you with a pained but fierce expression.

“Don’t apologize. Don’t cry.  _ You _ did nothing wrong.” Dean spit out. “You can’t help what you do when you’re asleep.”

Something about the way he’s speaking has something uncomfortable worming through you. 

“Dean, you couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me.” You say, feeling sick all over at the memory of Dean fleeing the room on the video.

“That...that wasn’t about  _ you _ . I just...needed a minute to...calm myself down.” Dean said, his face flushing as he stared at the floor. “I mean, it’s not every day that a schmuck like me wakes up to a pretty girl like you doing...that.” 

_ There _ was that self deprecating humor you’ve come to expect. Still the implications of his words have you coloring up as well. A quick glance to Sam shows he’s also avoiding looking in your direction.

“Oh.” is all you manage to get out.

“So.” Sam starts as the quiet drags on a little too long. “Do you think you want to watch some more Who or do you think you could fall back asleep again?”

Honestly, the last thing your pride wants to do is crawl back into bed and ask Sam and Dean to put themselves back into an awkward situation. Still, unlike other times you’ve woken unnaturally from your dreams where you’re wired and unable to calm, right now,  you’re bone tired. Evidently your body has once again become accustomed to a full night’s rest and without adrenaline pumping through you from a nightmare you can already feel your eyes trying to droop and your body growing limp.

“I...I think I’d like to try and sleep...if that’s okay?” You ask, trying and failing to not sound timid and pleading.

“Sure!” Sam answers, his enthusiasm only ringing a little false.

You don’t blame him, or Dean for feeling uncomfortable but you know that if you tried to change your mind they’d only dig their heels in. So that’s why, ten minutes later you find yourself once again encased in strong arms, this time with the blanket pulled snug around the three of you to warm you from the chill of your earlier flight. There’s obvious tension in the arms that are holding you which hadn’t been there before but you can hardly blame them. Still, it’s not long before you find yourself once again drifting off, a silent prayer for dreamless sleep the last thing that passes through your mind.

***

The next morning you’re surprised when Sam tells you that you’re going with them to tell the family that their home is once again habitable. He explains, as Dean glares at him silently, that it’s the first step in their plan to make you visible. 

Nerves course through you when you stash the ever present hex bag from your pocket in the car once you arrive at the hospital. The family is there with their daughter, who’d ended up with a broken arm after she’d been shoved down the stairs by the spook. You may have helped gank the ghost but you’d still had the benefit of the hex bag’s magic. Leaving it behind as you go into the hospital leaves you feeling all sorts of exposed.

The parents are reluctant to leave their daughter’s side, though they’re even more reluctant to discuss the details in front of her so you offer to sit with her while they talk with Sam and Dean in the hall. The girl’s definitely shaken and you can tell she isn’t happy that no one seems to be telling her what’s happening. All she remembers was walking by the stairs and then waking up in the hospital and it doesn’t sound like her parents plan on telling her any more.

You want to tell them what a mistake it is, that she needs to know the truth. But she isn’t your child and it’s not your place. It also isn’t anything like your own situation. Odds are this will just be a small blip on the radar for her. She won’t be plagued with nightmares. She won’t be wondering if she’s gonna spend the rest of her life alone because eventually the only two people on the planet that she trusts will leave.

So instead of arguing, or worse ignoring the parent's wishes and telling the girl the truth you’re laughing with her and doodling on her cast with a sharpie. She seemed to be in slightly better spirits but she grew quiet again as she watched you add petals to a crude sunflower.

“What’s up?” You ask, sensing the change in her mood.

“It’s nothing.” She says softly, still staring at her arm. “I was just supposed to go to my friend's birthday party at the skating rink next weekend. This boy I Iike asked to go with me. I was really looking forward to it. It was gonna be my first date.”

“What do you mean was? You’ll be out of the hospital by then. First date, that’s exciting!” You say, remembering your own first date fondly.

At least until your thoughts turn dark and you start wondering if dating is ever something you’ll be able to do again. If you’ll want to, or worse if anyone would want such damaged goods as you. Thankfully your spiraling thoughts are interrupted.

“I can’t go.” The poor girl wails. “The doctor said no sports or anything that might risk falling and when I asked Mom she said that meant skating too.”

“Well that sucks,” You say, stalling for time and glancing up at the people talking in the hallway. Watching the boys gives you an idea and you can’t help but smile. “I’m gonna tell you a very unfeminist little secret. But you can only use it when there aren’t any other options.”

Your smile only grows at the look of hope that sparks in the girl’s eyes as she leans forward, as if conspiring over state secrets.

“Most boys, especially younger ones, have this crazy idea that us girls need to be taken care of and protected. Now, generally that’s a load of crap. But this is a special case. So what you’re gonna do is get dressed up all pretty for this party and you’re gonna go enjoy yourself. You’re gonna watch people skating, you’re gonna enjoy the music. And most importantly you’re gonna let this boy feed his caveman urges. You’re gonna let him wait on you hand and foot and be adorably attentive. When they have those cheesy couple skates, you’re gonna remember that you’re a woman of the twenty first century and throw this boy off by asking him to dance with you. And you’re gonna have an amazing time. What do you think?” You finish, watching the girl’s face as she processes your advice.

“That...that would be okay?” She asks tentatively.

“Totally. Sometimes it’s totally okay to let a boy take care of you.” You can’t help but steal another glance to the hall before clearing your throat. “Or girl or person.”

“Which one is yours?” The girl asks with a curious smile.

“What?” You ask, a little lost.

“The cute guys you came here with, which one is yours?” She clarifies.

“Wha- oh...I...no…” You stammer, embarrassed at having evidently been caught looking. “It’s not like that. We...we just work together is all.”

“Really?” she asked, arching a brow. “I thought it was the tall one since he can’t stop looking over at you, even when he’s in the middle of talking to my parents but then I saw the other one looking too. He’s just not so obvious. Speaking of...”

Looking up with a jerk, you catch Sam watching you. His eyes go a little wide when you look back at him and he ducks his head before going back to talking to the parents but you don’t miss the small smile that curls the corners of his lips.

“Oh, they...they’re just...You know that whole caretaker thing I was talking about? Well they worry about me, what with being new and all. They just wanna keep an eye on me. Think it’s some sort of saviour complex.”

You’re pulled away from watching the hall by the sound of the girl snorting.

“Yeah ‘cause Insurance Claims are super dangerous, right.”

Right, yeah. The cover you guys used to keep the poor girl in the dark. Guilt and conflict start churning in your gut and once again you’re contemplating just coming out and telling her the truth yourself.

Luckily your conscience is interrupted when everyone files back into the room. Taking that as your cue, you finish up your drawing before standing.

“Remember what I said. You go ahead and let that boy take care of you now. You can show him how independent you are when you’re all healed up.” You say as you move to join the boys at the door.

“I will.”

You can’t help but smile at the girl's transformation. Her face is happy and bright, the previous storm clouds having dissipated. 

“But maybe you think about what else we talked about, huh?” She adds as you’re turning to leave.

You duck down to hide the flush of color you can feel and move past Sam and Dean, knowing they’ll follow. 

The first few minutes of the ride are quiet, allowing you to process some troubling thoughts. It’s too good to last, of course.

“You were good with her.” Sam says quietly from the passenger seat.

“She was a good kid, wasn’t too hard.” You mumble, deflecting the praise.

“No, he’s right. I bet you’d be great with interviews and victims.” Dean says, enthusiasm like the earlier days coloring his words.

“Or with kids of your own.” Sam shoots Dean a look before looking back down to where his hands rest in his lap.

“Uh...yeah...sure. Maybe.” You say awkwardly, not missing the way Dean’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.

Not really wanting to explore the topic further you let the car lapse back into silence.

***

Two days later and three towns over neither Sam or Dean have managed to find a case. You can tell by the looks they keep giving each other that they’re both getting antsy but it’s more obvious in the way Dean keeps pacing the room whenever he’s not the one at the laptop.

You jump a mile when the quiet of the room is broken by the laptop slamming shut.

“I’m gonna make a store run. We’re almost out of beer and I need some friggin pie.” Dean growls as he grabs his jacket and keys.

He’s out the door without another word.

You exchange a look with Sam before shrugging and standing from your nest on the bed. 

“Looks like we’re here for another night, so I think I’ll just shower and get ready for bed.” You say as you stretch and grab your duffle.

“Sounds like a plan. When Dean gets back we can settle in and watch some more Who.” Sam says as you rifle through your bag to pull out your toiletries and clothes comfortable for sleeping.

You’re a little startled when you realize that you’ve started to run low and will need to do laundry soon. With the amount of things Dean had bought for you, you’d thought you’d be home well before you ran out but here you are, still imposing yourself on Sam and Dean.

Before that thought has a chance to take root you shake it off and head into the bathroom. You’re feeling much more settled and relaxed after a nice hot shower and dressed in soft warm fabrics. Of course as soon as you walk out and see Sam sitting at the table looking up at you apologetically you feel the tension returning.

“What?” You stretch the word.

“Dean texted. He...ah...he decided to go to the bar to hustle some pool. Said he was running low on cash.” Sam says, having a hard time meeting your eyes.

It’s not a leap to figure out that the hustling was just an excuse.

“Having drinks. hooking up, or both?” You ask with a smile, hoping it doesn’t look forced.

Why you have to force it, you don’t want to examine too deeply. Dean deserves some time off from your drama. In fact…

“You know, I’m good here. You can go join Dean if you want. You both deserve...a night off.” You say, keeping your voice light.

“Naw.” Sam says with a grin. He stands and gathers up the laptop before walking over to the bed and plopping down in the usual laptop viewing position. “We can watch The Walking Dead without Dean whining about how wimpy it is that they have such a hard time with the zombies.”

You settle in next to Sam, refusing to feel guilty over the fact that Sam chose to stay here instead of going out and having fun, possibly getting some other ‘needs’ met. You made the offer and you didn’t even let on how much you didn’t want to be left behind.

By the end of the first episode of the night you even manage to stop looking at the door every few minutes. Evidently you’re so  _ not _ stressing about Dean’s mental state or absence that you don’t notice when you start drifting.

That is until sudden quiet has you blinking your eyes open.

Well, quiet with the exception of the strong thumping of Sam’s heart in your ear. At some point you must’ve dozed off and while you slept the two of you had slid down lower on the bed so that Sam’s head was just barely propped up on the pillow. You’re curled into his side, thighs pressed against his hip, hand resting on his stomach and head resting against his chest. Slightly more surprising is that Sam has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, hand rubbing gently against your back.

You glance up, doing your best to do so without moving only to find that your attempt at not alerting Sam to your wakened state is pointless. His warm hazel eyes are watching you, soft and happy. A content smile has the corners of his lips curling up just so. Tilting your head back so you can look without straining your eyes you shoot him a questioning look.

Breathing in sharply, barely able to process what’s happening, you watch as Sam dips his head forward. The sudden press of soft lips against yours is enough to completely push away the last of your sleepy fog. It feels warm and safe and a lot like home but before you have a chance to question why you aren’t panicking at the sudden touch, the kiss is over. Sam pulls back and you can see a flash of guilt that clouds his previously soothing expression.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers hoarsely. “I...I shouldn’t have done that.”

When Sam starts to shift as if to move away you grip the fabric of his shirt where your hand had been resting and hold tight.

“No.” You whisper as well, like you’re trying not to break whatever spell has you feeling so at ease in his arms. “It’s okay.”

The way Sam’s eyes light up and his face relaxes at your words has you melting inside.

“Yeah?” he asks his voice still low but less strained.

“Yeah.” You say, smiling shyly.

Then Sam leans back down again and you watch his eyes until they drift closed a moment before his lips are on yours again.

He kisses you gently, almost chastely, lips barely brushing, barely pressing. The sense of peace that begins to fill you surprises you. It’s something you haven’t felt in a very long time. You once again push away thoughts wondering why this feels so easy.

Suddenly it’s not enough. You want to chase this feeling, build it up and lock it down. Still, you you’re just as surprised as Sam is, judging by the soft noise he makes, when you part your lips and slip the tip of your tongue out to run along the seam of Sam’s lips.

It doesn’t take long for Sam to get with the program. His hand at your back falls away even as your own hand grips his shirt even tighter, the material beginning to strain under your grasp. But his mouth presses down on yours, turning just enough to slot against your lips as his own part, the warm heat of his breath spreads through you all the way to your toes as his tongue slides against your own.

_ More more more! _ Your body screams and before you have a chance to have second thoughts you’re scrambling to straddle Sam’s lap, the laptop sliding to the floor with a soft thunk. Thank goodness for crappy shag rugs. 

The change in position as the two of you continue to map each other’s mouths with the slippery slide of tongue only satisfies whatever it is that urges you on for a moment. Then, with the only warning being a soft nip of teeth on Sam’s bottom lip, you begin to grind down against him. He moans into your mouth and you swallow the sound greedily as you feel him beginning to swell against you.

Heat pools low in your belly with every press against your core, the rough denim of Sam’s jeans making the thin material of your pants feel non existent. It’s still not enough and your hands, that’d been clutching Sam’s shoulders as you practically devoured him, start to slide down, their goal being the closure of Sam’s pants.

When Sam’s hands come to rest against your hips, you shiver, but aren’t deterred. His grip tightens a little when your hands brush over his chest, grazing his nipples, and you feel the first coil of something dark.

Breaking away to catch your breath, you tuck your face into Sam’s shoulder as you continue to roll your hips against him, determined to chase that warm feeling. Sam’s lips move over your exposed neck where he kisses and licks the skin gently,  _ oh _ so gently.

One hand leaves your hip to start sliding up your side, thumb brushing against your sensitive belly on its upward path. The other remains, squeezing and kneading the flesh of your hip as you roll, constantly in motion. You know where the wandering hand is headed as Sam continues to taste the sensitive skin along your neck, behind your ear.

_ Pain. _

_ Slicing cuts starting just under your breast and inching along the swell of flesh, moving closer and closer to the sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s going to hurt so much more than it already does.  _

_ Struggle. _

_ The straps bind you, your legs, your arms, your chest, your hips. Even your head, your mouth. This one doesn’t like the screams, says they’re too distracting so he makes sure you can’t be heard around the gag. _

_ Can’t breathe. _

Can’t breathe.

“Sam.” You gasp.

Sam’s thumb brushes the swell of your breast. It’s soft and gentle. So why does it hurt so much?

“Sam!” You sob out when you’re able to suck just enough air in to be heard.

Suddenly hands are gripping your shoulders and pressing you back and hazel eyes swimming with concern are looking into yours.

“Hey, hey! Look at me! Breathe for me baby.” Sam pleads.

A few false starts go by before you’re finally able to take in a shallow breath, then another. Soon you’re breathing deep, flooding your body with so much oxygen you’re almost dizzy with it. When he’s certain you aren’t going to pass out Sam gently shifts you off his lap before pulling you back into his side.

“Is this...is this okay?” He asks softly as his hand once again rubs gently at your back.

You nod against his chest as you stare at the wall, unable to look at him. Still, the steady beating of his heart against your ear soothes you as you finally come back fully into yourself.

“I...I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t-” Sam starts, his voice strained with self reproach.

“No.” You say firmly as you pull back to look up at him. “I wanted it Sam. I  _ want _ it. I just...don’t know if I’ll ever be able to have it again.”

The hand that’d stalled on your back started rubbing soothing circles up and down your tense muscles as you curl back into him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked softly.

“Not yet.” You manage to whisper out before squeezing your eyes shut.

You don’t sleep and Sam doesn’t move. The two of you just lay there as the minutes pass by.

It can’t be more than a half an hour later when the door opens and footsteps come in, just a slight stumble to them. You hear them pause at the foot of the bed.

“Everything okay?” Dean asks, his voice low but not slurred.

For just a moment you can’t help but wonder if Dean had been more successful than you and Sam had been. The acidic rumble in your chest is most definitely  _ not _ jealousy.

You're broken from your thoughts when you feel Sam shaking his head silently above you. Still, you keep your eyes closed. You keep them closed through Dean’s shower. You keep them closed through the two of them gently rearranging you to lay between them on the bed.

Hopes for sleep coming easily are not present. You imagine it’ll be a long night of replaying every way you failed tonight, instead of the warmth and arousal that’d coursed through you. But when you’re wrapped in two sets of strong arms all the dark thoughts and self flagellation drop away and you drift to sleep easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience and encouraging comments! They mean the world and definitely help!


	12. Will You Keep Dancing When The Music Ends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You always hoped that when the end of it all came things would magically be fixed. Since when are things ever that easy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am suck a dick. I am so sorry I've left y'all hanging for so long. Things just kinda went sideways in my brain there for a while and finding the joy in my writing was just too hard. I promise to do my best to do better.
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my amazing beta DaydreamDestiel. Without her this would still be sitting in my docs, a single paragraph that mocked me. She gave me the push to start writing again that I needed.

It’s over.

You stare at the body slumped over in the chair, a bloody and broken corpse. If you didn’t know the poor sap that had been possessed was long past saving before you got there you might feel bad.

Instead you feel intense relief. Relief for yourself. Relief for the person finally released from the grip of the demon riding them. Relief that the boys will no longer be putting themselves at risk for you. Others, sure. There is no stopping the Winchesters from gambling their own lives for the sake of others. But not you. ‘Cause the plan had worked beautifully. Weeks of playing mouse to the cat and hoping the cat was actually chasing paid off.

It’d been three weeks since the salt and burn. Three nerve wracking weeks where you made yourself more and more visible, hoping that it was enough to get attention but not enough that you’d be caught unaware. You’d almost given up hope when the first demon had caught up to you and ended up dead before any answers could be given, but considering it was either let it break your neck or take it out with the demon blade, you couldn’t really be mad at Dean. Not that he wasn’t plenty mad at himself.

But the next time the trap worked. Sam ‘left’ the motel room, making sure to break the salt line just enough to seem accidental and not five minutes later you were turning to walk towards the kitchenette and nearly ran into one of your torturers. For about half a second you froze but then instinct had kicked in. You’d rehearsed this repeatedly, covering every possible angle and distance. You knew what to do if they got close to you. Practically on autopilot, you’d flung the contents of the glass you’d been carrying around. Unfortunately for the demon it wasn’t just a drink before bed, it was pure holy water and it gave off a satisfying hiss as it burned flesh.

Then the bathroom door had burst open and Dean had come stalking out, blade in hand. Seeing the flash of fear in the creature’s eyes and the stumbling step away from you had made you feel just a tiny bit less powerless. Even better when the demon couldn’t go any further and it finally saw the devil’s trap drawn on the ceiling.

An hour of torture later, most of which you’d spent in the bathroom with headphones on, unable to listen to the screams even though the thing wasn’t human and was responsible for so much of your pain, and you were trying not to get antsy. Then Sam, who had only been around the corner of the building when the demon showed, knocked softly on the door to let you know they were done with the interrogation and were gonna exorcise it. He knew you needed to see the last of them sent back to Hell before you would feel totally safe.

Now, you’re standing in front of an empty shell, feeling more alive and free than you can ever remember. After a few more moments of silence you can’t help the laughter that bursts forth. Soon Sam and Dean are joining you. It’s a little macabre, the three of you laughing over a dead body but it can’t seem to be helped. As you’re catching your breath you pull Dean in for a tight hug, pouring every ounce of gratitude into the action. After a minute you let him go, ignoring his blush and the awkward smile and you turn to Sam.

After a brief pause where the two of you just...look, take each other in, you find yourself wrapped up in Sam’s arms, his lips pressed gently to yours.

That’s another area that has made some progress over the last three weeks, though not nearly as much as you’d hoped. As worried as you were that things would change, that Sam would reject you or that Dean would be mad or uncomfortable if he knew, nothing bad happened. Sam _did_ tell Dean, of course, but Dean was perfectly fine with it. He said he was grateful that two of his favorite people had found some happiness in this fucked up situation. If his smile seemed a little forced for just a brief moment then it didn’t last and you had to let it go.

So you’ve also spent time getting accustomed to Sam. To gentle touches, embraces, hugs. Unfortunately the few times you’ve tried to take advantage of Dean going out it’s always ended the same, with Sam coaching you through remembering how to breathe and you trying your damnedest not to sob like a little baby. Still, the touching and kissing that have become casual and commonplace are nice. Very nice actually.

The clearing of the throat behind you pulls you back to the present. You shoot a guilty look back at Dean as you move away from Sam. He doesn’t seem to mind the displays of affection but even you can tell by the way he’s shifting his weight from foot to foot that things were starting to get a little more heated than you intended in your enthusiastic celebration.

“Why don’t I take care of this and you guys can enjoy a little R and R.” Dean says as he steps in to start untying the ropes holding the body to the chair.

“No way Dean!” you say as you step forward to give him a hand. “We aren’t making you deal with this alone.”

“I won’t be alone. Mikey will give me a hand as long as I promise him a few rounds on me. Seriously kid,” Dean says, eyes soft as he reaches up to brush a finger against your cheek. “You deserve to enjoy a little down time. And who knows, I bet now that this is all over things might...work out a little better.”

You can’t keep your cheeks from filling with color. You know Sam had talked about the issue you were having with being intimate with his brother. He’d asked your permission first, but he wanted to make sure Dean was aware of any continued affects the torture had had on you. This was just the first time Dean has mentioned it, is all.

“Okay,” you finally concede softly. “Thank you Dean. Oh! And please thank Mike for letting us use the motel. Can’t imagine how things would have gone down at a place full of guests and owners who weren’t aware that the thing screaming bloody murder wasn’t _actually_ a human getting slowly dismembered.”

“Sure thing,” Dean says with a grunt as he hoists the body over his shoulder. “I’ll ah… head over to the bar in town when I’m done. No need to worry about me comin back too soon.”

Thankfully Dean doesn’t look back or he might have seen the conflicting emotions that flicker across your face. You know it’s stupid and completely unfair but every time Dean goes out and presumably gets laid you can’t help but feel unhappy about it. You want to chalk it up to jealousy that he’s so easily able to do what you and Sam have been struggling with but a small part of your brain just wants to laugh at you and call you a damned dirty liar.

It doesn’t make you feel any better when Sam comments frequently that Dean must be striking out because he’s certainly as grumpy as he always is when he hasn’t gotten laid. Of course Dean wouldn’t be striking out regularly. Who _wouldn’t_ want to spend some horizontal time with Dean? Except you, of course. Because you like Sam. His brother. Even if you do already spend a fair amount of horizontal time with Dean.

After a few seconds of quiet you feel Sam’s hand settle warmly on your shoulder. Not long ago the unexpected touch would have sent you spiraling into panic mode but now it just makes you feel safe because the touch is so familiar and grounding.

“I’m gonna clean the rest of this up. Why don’t you go ahead and shower.” Sam suggests before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Sounds good.” you respond with a grateful smile. “I feel like I’m turning into a slippery salt lick with all the sweat I put off during that.”

By the time you’re clean and dressed in comfortable clothes Sam has put everything in the room back in order and has the chinese food from last night heated up and spread out on the table for you. Walking up behind him as he sets the last container down you can’t help but slip your arms around his waist and press your nose to his back. Almost immediately you’re pulling back, your nose wrinkled and your lips pursed.

“Your turn, Sam” you say with a grimace.

“Hey!” Sam exclaims good naturedly “You’re not the only one who was anxious you know. This was the demon that wanted to hurt my girl. There was a lot at stake.”

The rush of endorphins you get from hearing Sam call you his has you dizzy. As you watch Sam walk away to head for the shower you can’t help but think this might just be what it feels like to be in love.

Which is why you’re so damn _angry_ an hour later when you’re laying against Sam’s side with your face pressed into his neck, letting his scent and warmth calm you as the tremors that had shot through you the second Sam touched your bared breast finally subside. Maybe it hadn’t been a great idea to strip down to your panties and wait for Sam to come out and see you spread across the bed. Some misguided part of you thought that maybe if you skipped the foreplay and went straight for the super arousing bits that maybe your brain would skip over the fear and head straight for lust but no such luck.

“I’m so sorry Sam, I thought for sure…” you trail off as a sob threatens to force its way out.

“Hey,” Sam whispers against your forehead as he smooths back your hair. “It’s okay. It would have been great if this had been the answer to...things, but it’s totally okay that it isn’t. It just means it’ll take time.”

You’re thankful that Sam can’t see your face because you know he would read it like a book. But time is one thing you aren’t certain of, at least not with Sam. Now that the danger is over and the boys are certain no other demons knew about you what’s gonna happen? You push those thoughts aside and just try to let yourself be grounded by his touch.

“You know, I bet Dean is probably just getting to the bar now. We could go crash his night out if you’d like.” Sam suggests, the grin apparent in his tone.

Sam may act like Dean is a pain in the ass and the one always causing trouble but it’s clear as day that Sam gives as good as he gets and that both boys see their shenanigans as signs of affection.

“Sounds perfect. Let me just throw on some clothes.”

You dress quickly, Sam going to the bathroom to change back out of the sleep clothes he had put on after his shower and ten minutes later you spot Dean sitting alone at the bar, nursing what you’re willing to bet is whiskey, and completely alone. Well, he _was._ You bite your lip as you see a busty blonde slide in between Dean and the empty stool beside him. Sam starts to move forward but you put a hand out to stop him. You refuse to interfere with Dean getting some much deserved action, no matter how much Sam wants to screw with him.

Still, you can’t help but feel a little bit of happiness mixed in with a whole lot of surprise when Dean listens to the woman’s whispered words before smiling and shaking his head no. The woman looks a little put out as she walks away but _you_ are grinning from ear to ear as you practically skip to Dean and plant yourself onto the stool next to him, Sam following to take the one on his other side.

“Jeez!” Dean says with a start. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Dean looks like he’s trying to pull off gruff and annoyed but it’s clear as day he’s happy to see the both of you. To his credit Dean doesn’t question your sudden appearance or why you’re here and not back at the room getting freaky. He justs suggests the three of you move to a booth, which you do after ordering shots and beer for the table.

Thankfully with a belly full of booze and a body tingling with warmth you’re able to forget your most recent failure for a while. Instead you’re able to sink into the comfort of shared laughs and conversation. For the first time it’s not weighed down by what ifs and whens. No more time wasted on planning how to handle your little demon problem.

It’s when you’re coming back from a trip to the bathroom, blissfully taken alone without a Winchester posted just outside the door, that thoughts of the future start digging into your relaxed psyche. Your habit of eavesdropping has become instinctual over your time with the boys, it often being the only way you’d hear the full truth. So it’s entirely accidental that it happens now.

“I dunno, Dean. You might be right but how do we approach her with it.” Sam’s voice floats over the raised back of the booth.

Your feet freeze in place when you realize you’re the topic of conversation.

“I dunno man. Tell her it’s her best choice. I mean it’s not like I _enjoy_ the idea but it ain’t about me. Heck it ain’t even about you. I mean...well not entirely.” Dean sounded almost embarrassed by whatever he was suggesting.

It wasn’t hard to guess what that was though. Time to ship off the liability.

Using Sam’s lack of response as a good cue, you round the booth and purposely make yourself visible. Both men look up and you don’t miss the flash of guilt, though they’re both quick to suppress it. Sliding into the booth next to Sam you smile softly at him as he puts his arm around your shoulders. Wanting to break the unnatural silence at the table you tell the boys about some ridiculously raunchy joke you spotted written on the stall in the ladies room. It has the desired effect and the mood lightens.

It’s as the night is winding down and the other patrons are slowly thinning out that you finally make up your mind. You aren’t going to wait and force them to broach the topic they’re clearly dreading.

“So.” you start, staring intently at the rim of your mostly empty glass as you trace it with your fingertip. “Guess it’s time to figure out what’s next, huh?”

You catch the glance between the two men out of the corner of your eye but wait for them to respond.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, his voice heavy with caution.

“Baddies are all gone, suppose that means you guys don’t need me dragging you down anymore. Time to head back? I’m sure my apartment is gone but once I get ahold of my aunt and give her the all clear I’m sure she’d be cool with me crashing there.”

God, it hurts. The pressure in your chest is making you wonder if you didn’t survive all this only to die from a heart attack. It takes everything you have to say those words without giving yourself away. But it’s clear from the way they were talking that they’re gonna once again do what is “best” for you and that you’re not gonna like it. The worst part is how bad they obviously feel about giving you the news, but you’re not gonna make ‘em. You can give them that at least.

“Oh.” is all Sam says.

The silence that falls on the table is both oppressive and confusing. This is what they want, isn’t it?

“You know,” Dean starts, and you can’t help but jump at his sudden voice. “Just because the demons aren’t an issue doesn’t mean things are totally in the clear.”

“Dean!” Sam hisses from beside you.

“No, really Sam, she should think it through all the way before she decides to leave us. Leave. Before she decides to leave.” Dean shifts awkwardly across from you. “I mean, there were other things that were tracking her for the reward. Just cause the reward’s gone don’t mean they are.”

Looking back and forth between the two men you see an entire conversation happen without a single word spoken. Dean shrugging seems to be the end of it though as the tension leaves Sam’s own shoulders.

“ _Or._ ” Sam says with emphasis. “We could just ask if she wants to stick around with us for a while longer instead of scaring her into it. You know, til she gets sick of us.”

“Really?” you ask incredulously.

“Yeah.” The soft smile on Dean’s face is so rare that you want to stare at it til it's etched into your brain. “You’re alright kid. We wouldn’t mind if you stuck around. Until you get sick of us.”

“Okay then. I- I guess that’s settled then.” You say, looking back down at your glass to hide the pleased flush that colors your cheeks. “I guess there’s just one last thing to do.”

“Yeah?” Sam asks, smirking as he catches your eyes. “What’s that?”

“We totally need to be dancing right now!” You practically squeal as you jump up from the booth.

“No!” Two voices sound in perfect synchronization.

It’s another two hours before the three of you are stumbling back into the hotel room, sweaty and exhausted after having commandeered the dance floor til the poor employees had to beg you to leave so they could lock up.

***

_Soft, gentle laughter dances across your bare skin, soothing the goosebumped flesh._

_A voice, low and weak, is trying to remind you of...of something. This...this is supposed to hurt, this is bad._

_The rumble of another warm laugh joins the first, just as familiar and loving. And you strain but can’t hear that voice. What...what was it trying to say?_

_Suddenly it comes roaring back as hands slide across your body, louder and stronger than before._

_BAD!_

_RUN!_

_THEY WANT TO HURT YOU!_

_Just when it feels like your heart is going to pound through your chest, when your entire body is primed for flight, another set of hands touch you. This touch is different than the first, hesitant to start. But then the arms attached to the hands wrap around you and hold onto you and there is nothing but the sound of pleased laughter, the sound of home. You know it so well, but you just can’t quite place it. Your mind struggles._

_But the voice is gone. It’s gone and it feels blissfully like it isn’t coming back. And you could cry. You would cry. Except the first set of hands is moving and you notice for the first time your own hands are touching, grasping. You’re pulling, pressing. So warm. Everything is_ warm. _Everything is safe. So safe._

“Hey sweetheart.”

_No Sam. Not now. Now is for safe. Now isn’t for remembering._

“C’mon darlin. Don’t want this unless you’re awake and can tell me you want it too. Please wake up baby.”

_Sam. He needs you. Oh god, its more. Wants. He wants you. You can feel it. Feel it filling up every inch of you. That spark, that spark was lost but it’s_ Right There _. You feel the pressure building between your legs as you grind down on...something...something…_

You blink rapidly, a pace to match your pulse, as you try and orient yourself. The where comes first. You remember making it back to the hotel. Remember the happy random bursts of giggles as the three of you prepared for bed.

The three of you.

The who and what comes to you in a rush. One set of strong arms is still wrapped around your waist, coming from behind you. The other set is running up and down the bare skin of your arms, fingertips just barely brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, smoothing your hair, rubbing your hip just below the other arms. It’s all intimate but still chaste. What is less chaste is the way your legs are wrapped tightly around a long muscled leg, as the echos of pleasure pulse through you, your body slowly stilling from the rolling it had been doing to press the juncture of your own legs against a firm thigh. Your hands are clenching fabric, fingers digging into flesh to press the body into yourself. Slightly jarring is the fact that your lips are still pressed to another set of lips, and from how swollen they feel you can hazard a guess that they’ve been doing it a while. The lips they’re pressed to are curled up in a grin, but other than that they feel pretty passive if that’s possible.

Slowly you pull away and Sam’s face comes into focus.

“There she is.” He murmurs.

“Oh god. Sam, I’m so sorry-” you start, trying to force back the tears of embarrassment you can feel building.

“No! Oh god, baby no. It’s okay. I promise.” Sam say, moving in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Only reason I stopped you was cause I couldn’t take advantage. Believe me, every part of me was- _is_ fully onboard.”

When Sam shifts his gaze, something akin to shame or embarrassment mars his expression and its then that you feel the hardness pressed to your own thigh.

“Oh!” you respond dumbly.

Whatever Sam had been feeling clearly gets pushed to the back of his mind as the next thing you know he’s leaning in to pepper your lips with soft kisses. Any residual confusion you may be feeling dissipates though as your body starts to respond again, with almost as little control as you had while you were asleep. Deepening the kiss you catch Sam’s lower lip, nearly as swollen as your own, gently between your teeth before sucking hard. The rest of your body returns to its previous actions, your hips rolling to grind against Sam, pleasure shooting through you like a Fourth of July sparkler as the pressure against your clit increases. You tighten your grasp on Sam’s back and pull him in, effectively trapping his hand, which had drifted back down to your hip before slipping to rest just above the waistband of your sleep pants. The movement of your body against Sam’s gives him just enough space to slip further and now his long fingers are pinned between his leg and your very very wet core. When he starts to move them just enough to feel intentional you can’t help but hold your breath as you wait for the familiar panic to overcome you. This is already further than you’ve ever gotten with Sam and- And nothing. There’s nothing. No panic. No pain. No mocking voices. Only pleasure, foreign but so _so_ welcome.

A laugh of pure joy bubbles up from deep within you as you renew your attack on Sam’s lips, pushing yourself harder against his hands as his movements from before become more and more deliberate, pressing the fabric between your soaked lips to rub roughly against your throbbing clit. There isn’t much skill in the way you move, chasing the pleasure as you bump and grind your way to orgasm, loving the taste of Sam’s ecstatic grin that he just can’t seem to get rid of as he works you closer to your peak.

It’s a particularly enthusiastic thrust that has you drawing back further from Sam on the backswing that you realize you’ve forgotten one very very important thing. Your ass brushes against something warm and hard behind you and a startled gasp sounds just above your head causing you to freeze.

_Dean!_

It’s suddenly very hard to catch your breath as a feeling of absolute mortification slams into you. Your hand flies down to the arm that’s been draped over your midsection this whole time, circling around to grasp the other arm trapped beneath you.

“Oh god! I’m..I...I...s..sorry.” you manage to force out before Sam is shushing you and soothing you with easy presses of his mouth against yours, his hands moving up to cup your face in an effort to hold your attention.

“It’s okay.” Sam says after pulling away just enough for you to meet his eyes.

“But-” you don’t get far before Sam is interrupting you.

“Do you feel safe?” He asks.

“I-” you stop for a moment to take stock of how you are truly feeling.

More embarrassed than you’ve ever felt in your life.

Guilty as hell.

Safe?

“Yes.” you whisper.

“Do you think that has anything to do with why you didn’t immediately start panicking when I touched you?” Sam asks, more insistent than before.

“Yes.” you manage even softer than before after searching Sam’s face, looking for the trap but seeing none.

“Then it’s okay. It’s okay if you’re okay.” Sam reassured before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“But-” you start again as you move to turn, but the arms around you tighten just enough to stop you.

“It’s okay sweetheart. I’m just here to keep you safe.” Dean’s gruff voice sounds for the first time since you woke. “You just let Sammy take care of you. I got you.”

Maybe it’s the echo of the first time your dreams put you into this situations and the stark contrast of Dean’s reaction then and now. Maybe it’s just the desperation to finally feel like you aren’t permanently broken in this respect. Whatever it is, doesn’t matter. What does matter is that after months of feeling like a burden that was draining to the people around you and trying to fight against being just that, you give yourself permission to just take.

As soon as you’re back to kissing Sam, opening your mouth to him so he can swallow down your moans as he slips his tongue in to taste, the tension leaves the arms around you. Then Sam’s hand is moving back down towards your gently moving hips. This time though, when his fingers brush the waist of your pants they press in, sliding beneath the fabric and further still, under the silky damp material of your panties before they part your folds.

You can help but cry out loudly as he brushes against your clit with the tips of his index and middle finger before moving further down. In no time at all, you’re lost to sensation as Sam’s fingers plunge inside you, his thumb expertly working your clit, alternating between pushing back the hood to give intense direct pressure and just circling around the bundle of nerves. Briefly you contemplate trying to slip a hand down to work your way into Sam’s pants but all coherent thought is lost when Sam’s lips leave yours and he begins to nip and lick along the hinge of your jaw before sliding down to suck and bite dark marks into your skin.

Your body is positively writhing from all the conflicting pleasurable sensations shooting through you. Sensations that you hadn’t felt in so long. Sam follows as your wriggling has you almost on your back, your hands flinging out to grasp at something, anything, to hold. One hand manages to get a handful of Sam’s soft locks, pressing his mouth to your skin as your pleasure gets closer and closer to peaking, the coiled spring of tension in your belly seconds from snapping. The other finally gets ahold of something. Fabric. But something else warm presses against your palm too and your fingers flex as your body fights to let go, nails digging into the hard warmth.

Just as the world starts to white out you feel hot breath against your lips and you move a little closer. Then there’s kissing. Plush lips against your own as you’re pressing your tongue into a hot, welcoming mouth, exploring until tongues meet. Wave after wave of sweet relief courses over you as you feel the first orgasm since before your captivity shudder through you.

Your mind clears just enough for you to register the tongue and teeth still working to mark your skin at the juncture of your shoulder and your neck. But-

The sound of mingled panting breaths fill the air when you manage to force your eyes open as the last orgasmic shudder wracks your body and you find yourself staring into stunned green eyes, pupils blown wide, mere inches from your own. You watch as they dart down to your lips when you instinctively trace them with the tip of your tongue, realizing for the first time that the taste on them is _not_ the taste of Sam’s mouth. Everything seems frozen when Dean’s eyes move back up to meet yours. Then they are clouding over with… guilt? Confusion? Sadness?

Whatever it is? It’s not good.

And there’s Sam.

You are so good at royally fucking everything up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a Very long time since I've written smut that didn't involve two penises (peni?) so I apologize if it appears I've forgotten how to write about vagina. At one point I actually had written in the chapter (WHATEVER ANOTHER WORD FOR PUSSY IS GOD DAMN IT). So there's that. Also, I don't want anyone walking away feeling like there was any sort of noncon or dubcon with involving Dean in this without his consent so I'm gonna slip a little spoiler in. You Will find out that this is something that Sam and Dean discussed (hint, sometimes when you overhear part of a conversation, dear reader, it's not good to assume you know what the whole thing was about)


	13. Two For One Deals Are For Bargain Stores, Not Relationships.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Reader is forced to deal with the fallout of something she didn't even know she was doing til it was already done. And there is just too much running and not nearly enough talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Shit, I'm an asshole.
> 
> I'm so sorry there has been such a long gap between updates.  
> I made some big realizations when I opened up this doc about why I was having such a hard time making myself work on this one. Truth be told I've known the skeleton of what would happen in this chapter for a while. But I figured out that for some reason I felt like I needed to keep this story going. That I needed to figure out what the hell would happen next, what to add to it to make it longer. In truth, the natural end is near. Note the addition of a final chapter count. Now, I'm great for thinking something is gonna be shorter than it actually is but I feel pretty certain that this fic has one more chapter to it, something to wrap it all up and give some closure. 
> 
> The other think I figured out is that my own personal views and preferences had changed somewhere amid the writing of this fic. When I first started it I was on board with the idea of the brothers getting it on with the reader together cause who wouldn't want to be in on that. But Wincest wasn't my thing. I've since opened my mind to that ship and enjoy it just as much as the others I read. So my conundrum became how intimate did I make the brothers' relationship? Did it go further than I originally planned? If I didn't, how did I write such a thing that Didn't involve actual incest. Once I realized this was something I was hung up on I could actually process it. I've decided to stick with my original premise since that's what this fic started with, though I'm giving myself permission by having my characters own how completely out of the ordinary what they will do is, even if penises don't get incesty with each other.
> 
> So, with all that. Here you go. Again, so sorry for the wait. Also for the length. Hope it lives up to the anticipation.

“I… I didn't… “ You force yourself to break the brittle silence that seems to have settled over the three of you.

It's only when Sam shifts a little that you realize his fingers are still buried inside you. You’re pretty certain your face is fire engine red but you can't look away from Sam’s softly smiling face as he withdraws his hand and wipes the evidence of your orgasm on the sheets behind him. Your first thought is to flee to the bathroom, give yourself a moment to clean up and piece together your dignity. Sam seems to be reading your mind though and he slides up the bed to sit against the headboard, wrapping his arms around you to pull you to him.

A couple of deep breathes and you feel yourself relaxing into the safety of the embrace. Everything is okay. Well, it's not. Everything is completely fucked up. But it  _ will _ be okay. You can feel it rolling off Sam in waves, calming your soul.

Then the bed is jostled and you look back in time to see Dean struggling to pull his jeans up over an impressive looking bulge. 

“Dean-” Sam starts as Dean jams his feet into his boots.

“It's cool Sam, I just… “ Dean looks back at you and Sam on the bed and you feel your stomach roll at the mix of emotions you see on his eyes. “I'm gonna get some air. Besides, you guys got this. You did it! You got past the hurdle. Don't need me hanging around for the next part mucking things up, that’s for sure.”

Before you even have a chance to speak, Dean is grabbing his jacket and out the door. Staring at the spot he’d just vacated, you slump back against Sam, tears fighting to spill from your eyes.

“I'm so sorry Sam. I didn't mean to… I… “ you choked out past a sob.

“Hey,” Sam said softly before using a finger to tilt your chin and turn your face to meet his eyes. “It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“How can you say that Sam? Everything about what I just did was wrong? I made you… get me off while I made your brother hold me, watch. Then as if that wasn’t bad enough I stick my fucking tongue down his throat. Your  _ brother’s _ throat. Everything you’ve both done for me and I  _ betray _ you and I  _ use _ him.” Tears are pouring down your cheeks freely now and your heart aches as Sam reaches up to gently brush them away.

“I’ve got a confession to make.” Sam says after a moment’s hesitation, guilt twisting his kind features.

If you could think of  _ any _ reason for  _ Sam _ to be feeling guilty right now then you might be getting nervous but as it is the idea is to preposterous that you can’t muster anything but confusion.

“Dean and I… last night.” Sam pauses before he shifts away, moving to sit on the edge of the bed before he twists enough to still be facing you. “We talked about this. How you seemed to feel most at ease when we’re both there to hold you. Keep you safe. It was Dean who suggested that we might be able to… move things along… if he were there. Kinda like an anchor to keep you from getting lost while you and I were focused on… other things. God this is awkward.”

You’re quiet for a moment, trying to process it all, before you speak.

“So what, he volunteered to… hold me while we had sex?”

“He cares about you, wants you to be happy. Even if it means putting himself in an uncomfortable position… although-” Sam starts.

“When I went to the bathroom. That’s what you guys were talking about when I came back. Dean wanted you to suggest the idea but you weren’t sure how to bring it up. He… he said he wasn’t happy about the idea but… and then I went and friggin molested the poor guy.” You groan loudly. “I thought you guys were talking about sending me home.”

Sam laughs softly. 

“No. The last thing either of us wants is for you to leave.” He says with the most adorable blush spreading across his cheeks. “Are you mad? We were gonna talk to you first, I swear. But then this morning happened, and it felt  _ so good _ to be able to make you feel good again.”

“I’m not mad, Sam. Embarrassed as fuck. Worried about whether or not Dean can forgive me. But not mad. I know you guys wouldn’t hurt me.” You say, a little floored at how true those words are.

They won’t. No matter what, you know that the safest you will ever be is with Dean and Sam on either side of you. Nothing can hurt you as long as they’re around. Shit, does that feel good.

And now you may have fucked it all up.

“I should go track him down before he makes it all the way to the bar. Dean tends to make poor choices when he’s feeling destructive.” Sam says as he stands and reaches for his clothes.

“No. Let me, please. I think Dean and I need to talk. I need to apologize and make sure he knows I won’t do anything like that again.” You move while you talk, rolling out of bed and to your feet.

“Okay just… be careful okay? He tends to push people away when he’s feeling a little vulnerable. Almost managed to break up the team more than once, though thankfully we always managed to find our way back. We don’t do so well when we don’t have the other to watch our back.” Sam cautions.

You don’t bother to clean up, just put your shoes on and head for the door.

“I’ll be okay Sam. If he’s made it out of the parking lot I’ll come back and get you, okay?” You promise before leaving the room.

It surprisingly doesn’t take you long to track down Dean. He’s just around the corner, leaning against the wall banging his head back against the brick of the motel repeatedly.

“You’re gonna kill off brain cells if you keep it up, Dean.” You try to joke.

Dean doesn’t seem surprised to see you. Just laughs a twisted little self deprecating laugh.

“Can’t afford to lose what little I’ve got left, huh?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Frowning as you mirror Dean’s position against the wall and stare down at your feet. “Dean. I’m so sorry. I feel awful. You… you were trying to help me and I… Jesus. I’m no better than those fucking rapist demons.”

“What?” Dean looks at you in shock. “What are you  _ talking  _ about?”

“I was all over you. I can’t believe I’d be the kind of person to force myself on someone that didn’t want… that wasn’t...”

Shame steals your voice but evidently it doesn’t matter because suddenly Dean is right in front of you, almost as close to you as he was in the bed.

“Are you crazy?” He asks incredulously. “You think this is about me not  _ wanting _ you? Of course I fucking  _ want _ you. But you want Sam and Sam wants you. I can’t… I can’t do that. I can’t get in the way of that. You guys deserve each other.”

You know you should be saying something but shock just kind of has you frozen on the spot, mouth working but nothing coming out. Dean shakes his head before taking a half step away.

“Maybe… maybe you and Sam should have some time alone to really get to know each other. I’ll bet you’ll find you do just fine without me there to screw things up. Sam is good for you. He’s smart and calm and knows how to help you when you need it. I’ll just… screw things up.”

“You wouldn’t-” You start to deny.

“I  _ would _ .” Dean says adamantly. “You don’t really know me.”

“Are you kidding me? Dean, you’re one of the sweetest, kindest men I’ve ever known. You put everyone else before you. You’re easily as smart as Sam, as gentle-”

“You. Don’t. Know me.” Dean reiterates, cutting you off.

“I think I do.” You say softly as you reach up to touch Dean’s face.

It all happens so fast. One second you’re ready to brush a comforting touch through Dean’s hair and the next you find yourself slammed against the bricks, pain radiating along your back as your mouth is crushed by Dean’s. You can feel the first curls of panic moving up within you, feeling trapped against the wall, rough stone scratching at your bare shoulders. You can hear the demons’ laughter getting louder as the world starts to grow dim.

“Don’t you fucking  _ dare  _ be anywhere but here.  _ I’m _ the monster you need to be afraid of. I’m Right. Here.” Dean growls, punctuating his wordest with a rough thrust of his hips between your legs.

Oh fuck, does that feel right. Without thinking beyond the warmth spinning through your body you wrap your arms tightly around Dean’s neck and lift yourself up, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him tightly against you as his hands instinctively grip your thighs to hold you up.

Dean groans low before he dives back in and the kissing is a frantic mix of lips and tongue and teeth. You’re pretty sure you can taste a coppery hint of blood, not sure which one of you is actually bleeding.

Just as suddenly as it started it stops. You find yourself back on shaky legs, leaning against the wall for support as you watch Dean’s back as he storms away. Watch as he climbs into the Impala and peels out of the parking lot.

Suddenly everything becomes crystal clear. You’re in love with Dean. Sure, you’ve known you were in love with his brother for a while now, but it’s only just become obvious to you how desperately you are in love with them both. There’s absolutely no way you could ever choose. And what’s worse, you don’t want to.

Because no matter which brother you chose, it would be devastating to this little merry crew.

You make it back to the room in a bit of a daze. Thankfully, Sam is in the shower, though you don’t know for how long. You scribble out a quick note, letting Sam know you’ll be okay. They’ve taught you well. But you can’t be the reason Dean leaves for good. You even have the courage to write that you can’t put them at risk like that because you love them too much and you’re too awful and greedy to be able to choose.

Five minutes later you’re climbing into the first car to pull over for your raised thumb, your bag stashed between your legs. One last look in the side mirror as the motel grows smaller and smaller and you push away the world of regrets making itself at home in your brain.

Why you’re actually surprised to walk out of the bathroom at the little diner three towns over to see two annoyed looking hunters waiting for you, you have no idea. What does surprise you is the bruising grip Dean has on your arm as he pulls you out the side door before he has you up against the side of the building  _ again. _

“Dean. Easy.” Sam snaps. “Don’t scare her.”

“Scare her?” Dean growls, his grip on your arm tightens as the other hand is balled up into a fist and slammed into the wall next to your head, effectively boxing you in. “You mean like how  _ we’ve _ been out of our fucking mind the last couple of hours?”

Sam and Dean keep arguing but it’s a lot like the teacher on Charlie Brown. It’s distant and unintelligible. Because Sam is right to be worried. This should be triggering the fuck outta you. The hit you took when Dean slammed you against the wall had your bones rattling and there is definitely going to be bruises on your arm. You’re trapped. With two, ‘cause he may be telling Dean to chill but Sam is most definitely not happy, large pissed off men who could do you real damage.

But the only thing you’re afraid of is being talked into going back with them and eventually breaking them.

“Guys.” You say softly at first, a smile spreading across your face, then louder when you’re ignored. “Guys!”

The arguing stops abruptly and Sam and Dean turn to face you. There’s a mix of concern and anger on both their faces that has your stomach twisting with guilt but right now you can’t even begin to focus on it. You’re too busy trying really hard not to cry with relief.

“I’m okay.” You say and the first giggle erupts from deep inside you. “I’m okay! I mean, I’m not okay. Nothing about this situation is okay and I’m gonna need to know how you managed to catch up with me and everything is kinda a dumpster fire right now and there’s no way this is gonna end up well and I’m definitely gonna lose the-”

“Breathe, sweetheart.” Dean interrupts your rambling, his hand on the wall moving to cup the side of your face as the other loosens and slides down gently wrap around your wrist.

More giggles come bubbling up. They morph into full on laughter at the soft smile that curls up the corners of Dean’s mouth. 

“I’m okay Dean. I should be screaming and crying and trying to claw your eyes out uncontrollably right now. But I’m not.” You say as you let your head fall to rest against Dean’s chest. “‘Cause my brain, my body, it all finally  _ gets _ it. You are not the monsters.  _ You _ are  _ not _ the monsters.”

“That… that’s good.” Dean’s hand moves to brush the hair down at the back of your head. “I’m glad.”

You don’t miss the catch in his voice. You know he’s thinking about earlier and maybe echoing his words was subconsciously intentional.

“You’re not a monster Dean.” You whisper softly into the fabric of his shirt and feel the responding squeeze around your wrist.

It’s a minute or two of standing like that before you glance to the side. Sam’s standing there silently observing. When he notices you looking he gives you what you’re sure is meant to be a reassuring smile. Some sort of permission or something. Sam the martyr. Something he and Dean certainly have in common. They’d both give up their very lives if it meant the other had a real chance at happiness. 

Right back to the reason you’re here in the first place.

Yanking your hand from Dean’s grip as you push him away with your free hand is sudden enough to catch him off guard and give you some space.

“You shouldn’t have followed me.” You say as you turn away from them to hide the tears fighting to spill. “You said it yourself, the demons are taken care of. I’m safe now. For all we know the sleepwalking thing may be done too. Maybe killing the last of those dicks put a stop to that.”

It’s quiet for a moment and you wonder if they’re gonna listen to you and leave. Of course they couldn’t make it that easy on you.

“Listen.” Sam starts. “If you wanna leave, try to get back to a normal life. We get that. We’re not gonna stop you. Hell, we’ll drop you off back at home if that’s what you want.”

“But this running away crap? Making us track you down using the gps on your phone ‘cause we need to make sure you’re okay? That- you can’t just run away.” Dean repeats, breaking in to finish for Sam.

Of course that just has you laughing bitterly as you turn to face the two men.

“Really Dean? You’re gonna lecture me about running away? When you were halfway there yourself?” 

At least Dean has the good sense to look guilty.

“I wasn’t  _ running _ .” Dean says with what can only be described as a pout. “I just wanted to give you two some space so you can figure things out with me screwing everything up.”

“Dean’s right about you not running. But you’re right about him too.” Sam says looking between the two of you. “You two are the most important people in my life. If you decide Dean is who makes you happy, then I’ll be happy for you both. That’s all I want. No one needs to run.”

“Sammy that ain’t-” Dean starts before you interrupt him.

“Don’t you get it? That’s the problem Sam. I  _ can’t _ choose. I’ll  _ never _ be able to choose.” You’re sobbing now between words but you’re beyond caring. “I thought I knew what I wanted. Sam I love you so damn much it hurts. And Dean… I just, thought you only saw me as someone who needed to be saved. I didn’t even realize how much I hated seeing you hooking up with all these other women. But then you were holding me. And I kissed you. You kissed me back. I realized… but it doesn’t matter. Because I’m  _ not _ gonna be the thing that tears you two apart ‘cause I’m too greedy to choose. I know how the story ends if you two don’t have each other to get through life. It ends bloody. You’re not gonna lose each other because of  _ me. _ ”

The last word barely makes it out of you as your body is wracked with sobs. It’s the only thing that breaks the stillness. Then you’re being pulled by two sets of hands before you’re completely wrapped up between the hunters. You know you should fight. Should push them away and tell them to get lost. But if this is the last time you’ll get to be held by them, safe and protected as you break apart, then this will be the last bit of selfishness you’ll allow yourself.

“What if you didn’t have to choose?” 

For a moment you wonder if your subconscious imagined Sam’s voice asking that question.

“What?” You ask in a shaky voice.   


“Sam and I were talking on the way over and…” Dean jumps in hesitantly. “What if we’re okay with you not choosing. Or… I mean… choosing us both?”

You wiggle a bit against their strong arms until you’re able to look up at them both.

“Huh?” Is all you can manage, a whole lot of disbelief packed into one little grunted sound.

Something loosens up a little inside you though as Sam smiles down at you, warm and sure again like it had always been before.

“Dean and I, we know we aren’t even close to normal. So the whole relationship thing, it never really seemed feasible.” Sam explained. 

“Yeah but then you came along and as much as it sucks how everything happened, I haven’t seen Sammy so happy to be with someone in a long time.” Dean jumped in to continue for Sam. “It looked like it might actually work out for him. I was over the moon. Then I had to go and muck it up by having feelings of my own. I mean, who can blame me? You’re… you.”

You can’t help but blush at that but Sam continues on before you have a chance to argue.

“I kinda had a feeling that you might be feeling a bit more than friendship for Dean. I didn’t miss how it bothered you when Dean would go out. Just wasn’t sure. Then Dean suggested trying… what we did and you responded the way you did. It confirmed a lot of things to me, about you both. I probably shoulda spoken up before everything. I was pretty sure neither of you really knew how you actually felt about each other. I just wanted you both to be happy, even if it meant stepping aside.”

“But that’s not what you’re suggesting now.” You say hesitantly.

“It probably shouldn’t surprise us really.” Dean answers with a chuckle. “That we would end up finding our version of a happy normal relationship with the same person. People have always questioned how codependent we are. Made some less than comfortable insinuations.”

“But.” Sam interjects. “We don’t really care. With everything we’ve done for the world, all the shit we’ve been through. We don’t care if our version of happily ever after doesn’t match what’s ‘normal’.”

“So, just so we’re clear.” You try to parse everything out through the mix of emotions you’re feeling, the strongest being the most dangerous. Hope. “You’re saying that you, Sam, and I will be together. And you, Dean, and I will be together. In the figurative sense… and literal?”

“Well, the second one… I mean, we can talk about that.” Dean shifted uncomfortably but still continued to hold you. “But we’ll do whatever it is  _ you _ need to feel comfortable.”

“I don’t like that at all.” You cut in immediately. “What you guys need and want is important too, Dean.”

“He knows that. Something he’s gonna have to work on I think.” Sam says with a grin that makes you think it’s an old argument that Sam has found some new leverage in. “Though from the sound of it maybe the two of you were able to make some ground up with the idea of one on one, instead of one on one on one.”

You can feel your face flood with heat when you realize they discussed what had happened when you went after Dean. Dean appears to feel likewise, having to look away. Sam just looks at the both of you, his grin growing even wider.

“But that’s a conversation for another time. Right now I think we’ve got enough to talk about.” Sam says before dropping his arms. “What do you say?”

Dean follows Sam’s lead and also lets you go. You’re immediately missing that feeling of being surrounded and protected but you know they just want to give you space to process without influencing you.

“We’ll talk?” You ask, a small smile forming.

Dean grins back down at you before slinging an arm over your shoulder to guide you around to the front of the building, Sam reaching down on the other side to twine his fingers with yours.

“Yeah, we’ll talk.” Dean says before planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @DaydreamDestiel for beta'ing for me at a moments notice <3
> 
> Come see me on Tumblr spnbrennafae or on Twitter @brenna_fae
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos <3

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr http://spnbrennafae.tumblr.com/


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